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ST 


i't 


KOTO   WOULD    NOT    MARRY. 


■i.l 


MISS  NUME 


A  Japanese-American  Romance 


BY 


ONOTO  WATANNA 

"^"ru^'ru"^'"  """"  "^  "y^cinthr   'A  Japanese  Nighlingaler 
The  Wootng  0/  Wistaria,"  'A  Japanese  Blossom,"  ■■Tama" 


Chicago  and  New  York 
RAND  McNALLY  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


PS35V5 


264046 


Copyright,  1899,  by  Rand,  McNally  &  Co. 


THIS  BOOK 


IS 


AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED 


TO  MV   FRIEND. 


HELEN  M.   BOWE 


N 


BECAUSE  I  LOVE  HER  SO 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. 

I  —  Parental  Ambitions,      .         .  '^°^. 

II  — Cleo '.'.'.''' 

III  — Who  Can  Analyze  a  Coquette  ?  .  ,, 

IV  — The  Dance  on  Deck .  20 

V— Her  Gentle  Enemy,  .     .  2j 

VI -A  Veiled  Hint .".'.'."."  .1 

VII  — Jealousy  Without  Love,     ...          '  "Jy 

VIII  — The  Man  She  Did  Love.  .     .     !     .     .     .     .     '  „ 

IX  —  Merely  a  Woman 40 

X  — Watching  the  Night,      ...,..'  !, 

XI  — At  the  Journey's  End,    •......,[  H 

XII  — Those  Queer  Japanese  ! 

XIII  — Takashima's  Home-Coming, . 

XIV -After  Eight  Years,  ...              ?: 

XV-Nume .'!.'""'  t 

XVI  — An  American  Classic,  .     .              fi 

XVII-"  Still  a  Child,"   .                       „ 

XVIII -The  Meeting.  .     .          ..'.'.'.'.'.[     [  II 
XIX  —  Confidences, 

XX  — Sinclair's  Indifference,  .  o, 

XXI-"Me?    I  Lig'You."     ...*.*    .'    .'    ."         '  H 
XXII  —  Advice,    .    . 

XXIII  — Afraid  to  Answer 

XXIV  — Visiting  the  Tea  Houses.  .         It 

XXV— Shattered  Hopes ."    .'  104 

XXVI  — Conscience, .18 

XXVII  —  Confession 

XXVJII  — Japanese  Pride •    .     "     !     !  iic 

XXIX  —  Seclusion, 

XXX  — Feminine  Diplomacy !     .     .  121 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER.  PAOK. 

XXXI  —  A  Barbarian  Dinner 124 

XXXII  — The  Philosophy  of  Love. 126 

XXXIII -What  Can  that  "Luf  Be? 130 

XXXI V  —  Conspirators 133 

XXXV  — A  Respite  for  Sinclair 136 

XXXVI  — Those  Bad  Jinrikisha  Men 139 

XXXVII  — Those  Good  Jinrikisha  Men 141 

XXXVIII  — Disproving  a  Proverb 144 

XXXIX— Love! 148 

XL  —  A  Passionate  Declaration 152 

XLI  —  A  Hard  Subject  to  Handle 156 

XLII  — AStory 160 

XLIII  — The  Truth  of  the  Proverb 163 

XLIV  —  Nume  Breaks  Down 167 

XLV  — Trying  to  Forget 171 

XLVI  — An  Observant  Husband, 173 

XLVII  — Matsushima  Bay 176 

XL VIII  — A  Rejected  Lover 180 

XLIX  — The  Answer 184 

L  — The  Ball 187 

LI  — The  Fearful  News igo 

LII  — The  Tragedy, 192 

LIII  — A  Little  Heroine 194 

LI V  —  Sinclair  Learns  the  Truth  at  Last 198 

LV  —  Lovers  Again 202 

LVI  — The  Penalty 206 

LVII  — The  Pity  of  It  All, 211 

LVIII  —  Mrs.  Davis's  Nerves 214 

LIX  — Cleo  and  Nximk 217 


I       I 


Miss  Nume  of  Japan. 


J^J^J^ 


CHAPTER    I. 
PARENTAL  AMBITIONS. 

When  Orito,  son  of  Takashima  Sachi,  was  but  ten 
years  of  age,  and  Niimfe,  daughter  of  Watanabe 
Omi,  a  tiny  girl  of  three,  their  fathers  talked  quite 
seriously  of  betrothing  them  to  each  other,  for  they 
had  been  great  friends  for  many  years,  and  it  was 
the  dearest  wish  of  their  lives  to  see  their  children 
united  in  marriage.  They  were  very  wealthy  men, 
and  the  father  of  Orito  was  ambitious  that  his  son 
should  have  an  unusually  good  education,  so  that 
when  Orito  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  had  left 
the  public  school  of  Tokyo  and  was  attending  the 
Imperial  University.  About  this  time,  and  when 
Orito  was  at  home  on  a  vacation,  there  came  to  the 
little  town  where  they  lived,  and  which  was  only  a 
very  short  distance  from  Tokyo,  certain  foreigners 
from  the  West,  who  rented  land  from  Sachi  and 
became  neighbors  to  him  and  to  Omi. 

Sachi  had  always  taken  a  great  deal  of  interest  in 
these  foreigners,  many  of  whom  he  had  met  quite 
often  while  on  business  in  Tokyo,  and  he  was  very 
a  5 


6  MISS  NUMR  OF  JAPAN. 

much  pleased  with  his  new  tenants,  who,  in  spite  of 
their  barbarous  manners  and  dress,  seeircd  good- 
natured  and  friendly.  Often  in  the  evening  he  and 
Omi  would  walk  through  the  valley  to  their  neigh- 
bors' house,  and  listen  to  them  very  attentively 
while  they  told  them  of  their  home  in  America, 
which  they  said  was  the  greatest  country  in  the 
world.  After  a  time  the  strange  men  went  away, 
though  neither  Sachi  nor  Omi  forgot  them,  and 
very  often  they  talked  of  them  and  of  their  foreign 
home.  One  day  Sachi  said  very  seriously  to  his 
friend : 

"Omi,  these  strangers  told  us  much  of  their 
strange  land,  and  talked  of  the  fine  schools  there, 
where  all  manner  of  learning  is  taught.  What  say 
you  that  I  do  send  my  unworthy  son,  Orito,  to  this 
America,  so  that  he  may  see  much  of  the  world,  and 
also  become  a  great  scholar,  and  later  return  to 
crave  thy  noble  daughter  in  marriage?" 

Omi  was  fairly  delighted  with  this  proposal,  and 
the  two  friends  talked  and  planned,  and  then  sent 
for  the  lad. 

Orito  was  a  youth  of  extreme  beauty.  He  was 
tall  and  slender;  his  face  was  pale  and  oval,  with 
features  as  fine  and  delicate  as  a  girl's.  His  was 
not  merely  a  beautiful  face;  there  was  something 
else  in  it,  a  certain  impassive  look  that  rendered  it 
almost  startling  in  its  wonderful  inscrutableness. 
It  was  not  expressionless,  but  unreadable — the  face 
of  one  with  the  noble  blood  of  the  Shizoku  and 
Samurai — pale,  refined,  and  emotionless. 

He  bowed  low  and  courteou.sly  when  he  entered. 


PARENTAL  AMHITIONS. 


and  said  a  few  words  of  jjcntle  greeting  to  Omi,  in 
a  clear,  mellow  voice  that  was  very  pleasing. 
Sachi's  eyes  sparkled  with  pride  as  he  looked  on  his 
son.  Unlike  Orilo,  he  was  a  very  impulsive  man, 
and  without  preparing  the  boy,  he  hastened  to  tell 
him  at  once  of  their  pUins  for  his  future.  While  his 
father  was  speaking  Ohto's  face  did  not  alter  from 
its  calm,  grave  attention,  although  he  was  unusually 
moved.  He  only  said,  "What  of  Num6,  my 
father?" 

Sachi  and  Omi  beamed  on  him. 

"When  you  return  from  this  America  I  will  give 
you  Num6  as  a  bride,"  said  Omi. 

"And  when  will  that  be?"  asked  Orito,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"In  eight  years,  my  son,  and  you  shall  have  all 
manner  of  learning  there,  which  cannot  be  acquired 
here  in  Tokyo  or  in  Kyushu,  and  the  manner  of 
learning  will  be  different  from  that  taught  anywhere 
in  Japan.  You  will  have  a  foreign  education,  as 
well  as  what  you  have  learned  here  at  home.  It 
shall  be  thorough,  and  therefore  it  will  take  some 
years.  You  must  prepare  at  once,  my  son ;  I  desire 
it." 

Orito  bowed  gracefully  and  thanked  his  father, 
declaring  it  was  the  chief  desire  of  his  life  to  obey 
the  will  of  his  parent  in  all  thmgs. 

Now  Num^  was  a  very  peculiar  child.  Unlike 
most  Japanese  maidens,  she  was  impetuous  and 
wayward.  Her  mother  had  died  when  she  was 
born,  and  she  had  never  had  any  one  to  guide  or 
direct  her,  so  that  she  had  grown  up  in  a  careless, 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


happy  fashion,  worshiped  by  her  father's  servants, 
but  depending  entirely  upon  Orito  for  all  her  small 
joys.  Orito  was  her  only  companion  and  friend, 
and  she  believed  blindly  in  him.  She  told  him  all 
her  little  troubles,  and  he  in  turn  tried  to  teach  her 
many  things,  for,  although  their  fathers  intended  to 
betroth  them  to  each  other  as  soon  as  they  were  old 
enough,  still  Num^  was  only  a  little  girl  of  ten, 
whilst  Orito  was  a  tall  man-youth  of  nearly  eighteen 
years.  They  loved  each  other  very  dearly;  Orito 
loved  Num6  because  she  was  one  day  to  be  his  little 
wife,  and  because  she  was  very  bright  and  pretty ; 
whilst  Nume  loved  big  Orito  with  a  pride  that  was 
pathetic  in  its  confidence. 

That  afternoon  Num^  waited  long  for  Orito  to 
come,  but  the  boy  had  gone  out  across  the  valley, 
and  was  wandering  aimlessly  among  the  hills,  try- 
ing to  make  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Nume  and  tell  her 
that  in  less  than  a  week  he  must  leave  her,  and  his 
beautiful  home,  for  eight  long  years.  The  next 
day  a  great  storm  broke  over  the  little  town,  and 
Num^  was  unable  to  go  to  the  school,  and  because 
Orito  had  not  come  she  became  very  restless  and 
wandered  fretfully  about  the  house.  So  she  com- 
plained bitterly  to  her  father  that  Orito  had  not 
come.  Then  Omi,  forgetting  all  else  save  the  great 
future  in  store  for  his  prospective  son-in-law,  told 
her  of  their  plans.  And  Num^  listened  to  him,  not 
as  Orito  had  done,  with  quiet,  calm  face,  for  hers 
was  stormy  and  rebellious,  and  she  sprang  to  her 
father's  side  and  caught  his  hands  sharply  in  her 
little  ones,  crying  out  passionately: 


! 


PARENTAL   AMBITIONS. 


( ■ 

\ 


.' 


"No!  no!  my  father,  do  not  send  Orito  away." 

Omi  was  shocked  at  this  display  of  unmaidenly 
conduct,  and  arose  in  a  dignified  fashion,  ordering 
his  daughter  to  leave  him,  and  Numfe  crept  out,  too 
stunned  to  say  more.  About  an  hour  after  that 
Orito  came  in,  and  discovered  her  rolled  into  a  very 
forlorn  little  heap,  with  her  head  on  a  cushion,  and 
weeping  her  eyes  out. 

"You  should  not  weep,  Nume,"  he  said.  "You 
should  rather  smile,  for  see,  I  will  come  back  a 
great  scholar,  and  will  tell  you  of  all  I  have  seen — 
the  people  I  have  met — the  strange  men  and 
women."  But  at  that  Nume  pushed  him  from  her, 
and  declared  she  wanted  not  to  hear  of  those  bar- 
barians, and  flashed  her  eyes  wrathfuUy  at  him, 
whereat  Orito  assured  her  that  none  of  them  would 
be  half  as  beautiful  or  sweet  as  his  little  Num& — his 
plum  blossom;  for  the  word  Num^  means  plum 
blossom  in  Japanese.  Finally  Num^  promised  to 
be  very  brave,  and  the  day  Orito  left  she  only  wept 
when  no  one  could  see  her. 

And  so  Orito  sailed  for  America,  and  entered 
a  great  college  called  * '  Harvard. ' '  And  little  Num^ 
remained  in  Japan,  and  because  there  was  no  Orito 
now  to  tell  her  thoughts  to,  she  grew  very  subdued 
and  quiet,  so  that  few  would  have  recognized  in  her 
the  merry,  wayward  little  girl  who  had  followed 
Orito  around  like  his  very  shadow.  But  Nume 
never  forgot  Orito  for  one  little  moment,  and  when 
every  one  else  in  the  house  was  sound  asleep,  she 
would  lie  awake  thinking  of  him. 


T 


lO 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    II. 


CLEO. 


"No  use  looking  over  there,  my  dear.  Takie  has 
no  heart  to  break — never  knew  a  Jap  that  had,  for 
that  matter — cold  sort  of  creatures,  most  of  them." 

The  speaker  leaned  nonchalantly  against  the 
guard  rail,  and  looked  half-amusedly  at  the  girl 
beside  him.  She  raised  her  head  saucily  as  her 
companion  addressed  her,  and  the  willful  little  toss 
to  her  chin  was  so  pretty  and  wicked  that  the  man 
laughed  outright. 

' '  No  need  for  you  to  answer  in  words, ' '  he  said. 
"That  wicked,  willful  look  of  yours  bodes  ill  for  the 
Jap's — er — heart. " 

"I  would  like  to  know  him,"  said  the  girl,  slowly 
and  quite  soberly.  "Really,  he  is  very  good- 
looking." 

"Oh!  yes — I  suppose  so — for  a  Japanese,"  her 
companion  interrupted. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  in  undisguised  disgust  for 
a  moment. 

"How  ignorant  you  are,  Tom!"  she  said,  impa 
tiently;  "as  if  it  makes  the  slightest  difference  what 
nationality  he  belongs  to.      Mighty  lot  you    know 
about  the  Japanese." 

Tom  wilted  before  this  assault,  and  the  girl  took 
advantage  to  say:    "Now,   Tom,   I  want  to  know 


J 


CLEO. 


II 


Mr. — a — a — Takashima.  U7iai  a  name!  Go,  like 
the  dear  good  boy  you  ars,  and  bring  him  over 
here." 

Tom  straightened  his  shoulders. 

"I  utterly,  completely,  and  altogether  refuse  to 
introduce  you,  young  lady,  to  any  other  man  on 
board  this  steamer.  Why,  at  the  rate  you're  going 
there  won't  be  a  heart-whole  man  on  board  by  the 
time  we  reach  Japan." 

"But  you  said  Mr.  Ta — Takashima — or  'Takie,' 
as  you  call  him,  had  no  heart. ' ' 

"True,  but  you  might  create  one  in  him.  I  have 
a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  you,  you  know. " 

"Oh!  Tom,  don't  be  ridiculous  now.  Horrid 
thing!     I  believe  you  just  want  to  be  coaxed." 

Tom's  good-natured,  fair  face  expanded  in  a 
broad  smile  for  a  moment.  Then  he  tried  to 
clear  it. 

'''Always  disliked  to  be  coaxed,"  he  choked. 

"Hem!"  The  girl  looked  over  into  the  waters  a 
moment,  thinking.  Then  she  rose  up  and  looked 
Tom  in  the  face. 

"Tom,  if  you  don't  I'll  go  over  and  speak  to  him 
without  an  introduction." 

' '  Better  try  it, '  *  said  Tom,  aggravatingly.  ' '  Why, 
you'd  shock  him  so  much  he  wouldn't  get  over  it 
for  a  year.  You  don't  know  these  Japs  as  I  do,  my 
dear — dozens  of  them  at  our  college — awfully  strict 
on  subject  of  etiquette,  manners,  and  all  that 
folderol." 

"Yes,  but  I'd  tell  him  it  was  an  American  cus- 
tom." 


12 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


*•  Can't  fool  Takashima,  my  dear.  Been  in  Amer- 
ica eight  years  now — knows  a  thing  or  two,  I  guess." 

Takashima,  the  young  Japanese,  looked  over  at 
them,  with  the  unreadable,  quiet  gaze  peculiar  to 
the  better  class  Japanese.  His  eyes  loitered  on 
the  girl's  beautiful  face,  and  he  moved  a  step  nearer 
to  them,  as  a  gentleman  in  passing  stood  in  front, 
and  for  a  moment  hid  them  from  him. 

* '  He  is  looking  at  us  now, ' '  said  the  girl,  innocently. 

Tom  stared  at  her  round-eyed  for  a  moment. 

"How  on  earth  do  you  know  that?  Your  head  is 
turned  right  from  him. ' ' 

Again  the  saucy  little  toss  of  the  chin  was  all  the 
girl's  answer. 

*'He's  right  near  us  now.  Tom,  please,  please — 
now's  your  chance,"  she  added,  after  a  minute. 

The  Japanese  had  come  quite  close  to  them.  He 
was  still  looking  at  the  girl's  face,  as  though  thor- 
oughly fascinated  with  its  beauty.  A  sudden  wind 
came  up  from  the  sea  and  caught  the  red  cape  she 
wore,  blowing  it  wildly  about  her.  It  shook  the 
rich  gold  of  her  hair  in  wondrous  soft  shiny  waves 
about  her  face,  as  she  tried  vainly  to  hold  the  little 
cap  on  her  head.  It  was  a  sudden  wild  wind,  such 
as  one  often  encounters  at  sea,  lasting  only  for  a 
moment,  but  in  that  moment  almost  lifting  one 
from  the  deck.  The  girl,  who  had  been  clinging 
breathlessly  to  the  railing,  turned  toward  Taka- 
shima, her  cheeks  aflame  with  excitement,  and  as 
the  violent  gust  subsided,  they  smiled  in  each 
other's  faces. 

Tom  relented. 


CLEO. 


13 


•'Hallo!  Takie — you  there?"  he  said,  cordially. 
"Thought  you'd  be  laid  up.  You're  a  pretty  good 
sailor,  I  see. ' '  Then  he  turned  to  the  girl  and  said 
very  solemnly  and  as  if  they  had  never  even  dis- 
cussed the  subject  of  an  introduction,  "Cleo,  this  is 
my  old  college  friend,  Mr.  Takashima — Takie,  my 
cousin,  Miss  Ballard. ' ' 

"Will  you  tell  me  why,  "said  the  young  Japanese, 
very  seriously,  "you  did  not  want  that  I  should 
know  your  cousin?" 

"Don't  mind  Tom,"  the  girl  answered,  with 
embarrassment,  as  that  gentleman  threw  away  his 
cigar  deliberately ;  and  she  saw  by  his  face  that  he 
intended  saying  something  that  would  mislead 
Takashima,  for  he  had  often  told  her  of  the  direct, 
serious  and  strange  questions  the  Japanese  would 
ask,  and  how  he  was  in  the  habit  of  leading  him  off 
the  track,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  and  because 
Takashima  took  everything  so  seriously. 

"Why— a—"  said  Tom,  "the  truth  of  the  matter 
is — my  cousin  is  a — a  flirt!" 

"Tom!"  said  the  girl,  with  flaming  cheeks. 

"A  flirt!"  repeated  the  Japanese,  half -musingly. 
"Ah!  I  do  not  like  a  flirt — that  is  not  a  nice  word," 
he  added,  gently. 

"Tom  is  just  teasing  me,"  she  said;  and  added, 
"But  how  did  you  know  Tom  did  not  want  you  to 
know  me?" 

"I  heard  you  tell  him  that  you  want  to  know  me, 
and  I  puzzle  much  myself  why  he  did  not  want." 

"I  was  sorry  for  you  in  advance,  Takie,"  said 
Tom,  wickedly,  and  then  seeing  by  the  girl's  face 


M 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


that  she  was  getting  seriously  offended,  he  added : 
"Well,  the  truth  is — er — Cleo — is — a  so — young, 
don't  you  know.  One  can't  introduce  their  female 
relatives  to  many  of  their  male  friends.  You 
understand.     That's  how  you  put  it  to  me  once. " 

*'Yes!"  said  Takashima,  "I  remember  that  I  tell 
you  of  that.  Then  I  am  most  flattered  to  know  your 
relative." 

As  Tom  moved  off  and  left  them  together,  feeling 
afraid  to  trust  himself  for  fear  he  would  make 
things  worse,  he  heard  the  gentle  voice  of  the 
Japanese  saying  very  softly  to  the  girl: 

"I  am  most  glad  that  you  do  not  flirt.  I  do  not 
like  that  word.     Is  it  American?" 

Tom  chuckled  to  himself,  and  shook  his  fist,  in 
mock  threat,  at  Cleo. 


WHO  CAN  ANALYZE  A  COQUETTE? 


15 


CHAPTER    III. 

WHO  CAN  ANALYZE  A  COQUETTE? 

Cleo  Ballard  was  a  coquette;  such  an  alluring, 
bright,  sweet,  dangerous  coquette.  She  could  not 
have  counted  her  adorers,  because  they  would  have 
included  every  one  who  knew  her.  Such  a  gay, 
happy  girl  as  she  was ;  always  looking  about  her  for 
happiness,  and  finding  it  only  in  the  admiration  and 
adoration  of  her  victims;  for  they  were  victims, 
after  all,  because,  though  they  were  generally  will- 
ing to  adore  in  the  beginning,  she  nevertheless 
crushed  their  hopes  in  the  end ;  for  that  is  the  nature 
of  coquettes.  Hers  was  a  strange,  paradoxical 
nature.  She  would  put  herself  out,  perhaps  go 
miles  out  of  her  way,  for  the  sake  of  a  new  adorer, 
one  whose  heart  she  knew  she  would  storm,  and 
then  perhaps  break.  She  would  do  this  gayly, 
thoughtlessly,  as  unscrupulously  and  impetuously 
as  she  tore  the  little  silk  gloves  from  her  hands 
because  they  came  not  off  easily.  And  yet,  in  spite 
of  this,  it  broke  her  heart  (and,  after  all,  she  had  a 
heart)  to  see  the  meanest,  the  most  insignificant  of 
creatures  in  pain  or  trouble.  With  a  laugh  she 
pulled  the  heart-strings  till  they  ached  with  pain 
and  pleasure  commingled ;  but  when  the  poor  heart 
burst  with  the  tension,  then  she  would  run  shiver- 
ing away,  and  hide  herself,  because  so  long  as  she 


i6 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


did  not  see  the  pain  she  did  not  feel  it.     Who  can 
analyze  a  coquette? 

Then,  too,  she  was  very  beautiful,  as  all 
coquettes  are.  She  had  sun-kissed,  golden-brown 
hair, — dark  brown  at  night  and  in  the  shadow, 
bright  gold  in  the  daytime  and  in  the  light.  Her 
eyes  were  dark  blue,  sombre,  gentle  eyes  at  times, 
wicked,  mischievous,  mocking  eyes  at  others.  Of 
the  rest  of  her  face,  you  do  not  need  to  know,  for 
when  one  is  young  and  has  wonderful  eyes,  shiny, 
wavy  hair  and  even  features,  be  sure  that  one  is 
very  beautiful. 

Cleo  Ballard  was  beautiful,  with  the  charming, 
versatile,  changeable,  wholly  fascinating  beauty  of 
an  American  girl — an  American  beauty. 

And  now  she  had  a  new  admirer,  perhaps  a 
new — lover.  He  was  so  different  from  the  rest.  It 
had  been  an  easy  matter  for  her  to  play  with  and 
turn  off  her  many  American  adorers,  because  most 
of  them  went  into  the  game  of  hearts  with  their 
eyes  open,  and  knew  from  the  first  that  the  girl 
was  but  playing  with  them.  But  how  was  she  to 
treat  one  who  believed  every  word  she  said, 
whether  uttered  gayly  or  otherwise,  and  who,  in  his 
gentle,  undisguised  way,  did  not  attempt,  even  from 
the  beginning,  to  hide  from  her  the  fact  that  he 
admired  her  so  intensely? 

Ever  since  the  day  Tom  Ballard  had  introduced 
Takashima  to  her,  he  had  been  with  her  almost 
constantly.  Among  all  the  men,  young  and  old, 
who  paid  her  court  on  the  steamer,  she  openly' 
favored  the  Japanese.     Most  Japanese  have  their 


li 


WHO  CAN  ANALYZE  A  COQUETTE? 


n 


said, 
his 
rom 
he 


full  share  of  conceit.  Takashima  was  not  lacking 
in  this.  It  was  pleasant  for  him  to  be  singled  out 
each  day  as  the  one  the  beautiful  American  girl 
preferred  to  have  by  her.  It  pleased  him  that  she 
did  not  laugh  or  joke  so  much  when  with  him,  but 
often  became  even  as  serious  as  he,  and  he  even 
enjoyed  hearing  her  snub  some  of  her  admirers  for 
his  sake. 

"Cleo,"  Tom  Ballard  said  to  her  one  day,  as  the 
Japanese  left  her  side  for  a  moment,  "have  mercy 
on  Takashima;  spare  him,  as  thou  wouldst  be 
spared." 

She  flushed  a  trifle  at  the  bantering  words,  and 
looked  out  across  the  sea. 

"Why,  Tom!  he  understands.  Didn't  you  say  he 
had  lived  eight  years  in  America?" 

Tom  sighed.  "Woman!  woman!  incorrigible, 
unanswerable  creature!" 

After  a  time  Cleo  said,  almost  pleadingly,  as  if 
she  were  trying  to  defend  herself  against  some 
accusation : 

"Really,  Tom,  he  is  so  nice.  I  can't  help  myself. 
You  haven't  the  slightest  idea  how  it  feels  to  have 
any  one — any  one  like  that — on  the  verge  of  being 
in  love  with  you. ' ' 

Takashima  returned  to  them,  and  took  his  seat  by 
the  girl's  side. 

"To-night,"  he  told  her,  "they  are  going  to  dance 
on  deck.     The  band  will  play  a  concert  for  us. ' ' 

Cleo  smiled  whimsically  at  his  broken  English, 
for,  in  spite  of  his  long  residence  in  America,  he 
still  tripped  in  his  speech. 


i8 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Do  you  dance?"  she  asked,  curiously. 

"No!     I  like  better  to  watch  with  you." 

"But  I  dance,"  she  put  in,  hastily. 

Takashima's  face  fell.  He  looked  at  her  so 
dejectedly  that  she  laughed.  "Life  is  so  serious  to 
you,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Takashima?  Every  little  thing 
is  of  moment." 

He  gravely  agreed  with  her,  looking  almost  sur- 
prised that  she  should  consider  this  strange. 

"We  are  always  taught,"  he  said,  gently,  "that 
it  is  the  little  things  of  life  which  produce  the  big; 
that  without  the  little  we  may  not  have  the  big. 
So,  therefore,  we  Japanese  measure  even  the  small- 
est of  things  just  as  we  do  the  large  things." 

Cleo  repeated  this  speech  later  to  Tom,  and  an 
Englishman  who  had  been  paying  her  a  good  deal  of 
attention.  They  both  laughed,  but  she  felt  some, 
what  ashamed  of  herself  for  repeating  it. 

"I  suppose,  then,  you  will  not  dance,"  said  the 
Englishman.  Cleo  did  not  specially  like  him.  She 
intended  fully  to  dance,  that  night,  but  a  contrary 
spirit  made  her  reply,  "No;  I  guess  I  will  not." 

She  glanced  over  to  where  the  young  Japanese 
sat,  a  little  apart  from  the  others.  His  cap  was 
pulled  over  his  eyes,  but  the  girl  felt  he  had  been 
watching  her.  She  recrossed  the  deck  and  sat 
down  beside  him. 

"Will  you  be  glad,"  she  asked  him,  "when  we 
reach  Japan?" 

A  shadow  flitted  for  a  moment  across  his  face 
before  he  replied. 

"Yes,  Miss  Ballard,  most  glad.     My  country  is 


WHO  CAN  ANALYZE  A  COQUETTE? 


^9 


very  beautiful,  and  I  wish  very  much  to  see  my 
home  and  my  relations  again." 

"You  do  not  look  like  most  Japanese  I  have  met," 
she  said,  slowly,  studying  his  face  with  interest. 
"Your  eyes  are  larger  and  your  features  more 
regular." 

"That  is  very  polite  that  you  say,"  he  said. 

The  girl  laughed.  "No!  I  didn't  say  it  for 
politeness,"  she  protested,  "but  because  it  is  true. 
You  are  really  very  fine  looking,  as  Tom  would 
say;"  she  halted  shyly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
added,  "for — for  a  Japanese." 

Takashima  smiled.  "Some  of  the  Japanese  do 
not  have  very  small  eyes.  Very  few  of  the  Kazoku 
class  have  them.  That  it  is  more  pretty  to  have 
them  large  we  do  not  say  in  Japan." 

"Then,"  said  the  girl,  mischievously,  "you  are 
not  handsome  in  Japan." 

This  time  Takashima  laughed  outright. 

"I  will  try  and  be  modest,"  he  said.  "There- 
fore, I  will  let  you  be  the  judge  when  we  arrive 
there.  If  you  think  I  am,  as  you  say,  handsome, 
then  shall  I  surely  be." 


is 


to 


MISS  NUME  OP  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  DANCE  ON  DECK. 


That  evening  the  decks  presented  a  gala  appear- 
ance. On  every  available  place,  swung  clear  across 
the  deck,  were  Japanese  and  Chinese  lanterns  and 
flags  of  every  nation.  The  band  commenced  play- 
ing even  while  they  were  yet  at  dinner,  and  the 
strains  of  music  floated  into  the  dining-room,  acting 
as  an  appetizer  to  the  passengers,  and  giving  them 
anticipation  of  the  pleasant  evening  in  store. 
About  seven  o'clock  the  guests,  dressed  in  evening 
costume,  began  to  stroll  on  deck,  and  as  the  dark- 
ness slowly  chased  away  the  light,  the  pat  of  dainty 
feet  mingled  with  the  strains  of  music,  the  sough 
of  the  sea  and  the  sigh  of  the  wind.  Lighted 
solely  by  the  moon  and  the  swinging  lanterns,  the 
scene  on  deck  was  as  beautiful  as  a  fairyland  picture. 

Cleo  Ballard  was  not  dancing.  She  was  sitting 
back  in  a  sheltered  corner  with  Takashima.  Her 
eyes  often  wandered  to  the  gay  dancers,  and  her 
little  feet  at  times  could  scarcely  keep  still.  Yet  it 
was  of  her  own  free  will  that  she  was  not  dancing. 
When  she  had  first  come  on  deck  she  was  soon  sur- 
rounded with  eager  young  men  ready  to  be  her 
partners  in  the  dance.  The  girl  had  stood  laugh- 
ingly in  their  midst,  answering  this  one  with  saucy 
wit    and   repartee,   snubbing   that   one    (when  he 


1 1 


THE  DANCE  ON  DECK. 


31 


deserved  it),  and  looking  nameless  things  at  others. 
And  as  she  stood  there  laughing  and  talking  gayly, 
a  girl  had  passed  by  her  and  made  some  light 
remark.  She  did  not  catch  the  words.  A  few 
moments  after  she  saw  the  same  girl  sitting  alone 
with  Takashima,  and  there  was  a  curiously  stub- 
born look  about  Cleo's  eyes  when  she  turned  them 
away. 

"Don't  bother  me,  boys,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
believe  I  want  to  dance  just  yet.  Perhaps  later, 
when  it  gets  dark.  I  believe  I'll  sit  down  for  a 
while  anyhow." 

She  found  her  way  to  where  Takashima  and  Miss 
Morton  were  sitting.  Miss  Morton  was  talking  very 
vivaciously,  and  the  Japanese  was  answering 
absently.  As  Cleo  came  behind  him  and  rested 
her  hand  for  a  moment  on  the  back  of  his  deck- 
chair,  he  started. 

"Ah,  is  it  you?"  he  said,  softly.  "Did  you  not 
say  that  you  would  dance?" 

"It  is  a  little  early  yet,"  the  girl  answered. 
"See,  the  sun  has  not  gone  down  yet.  Let  us 
watch  it." 

They  drew  their  deck-chairs  quite  close  to  the 
guard-rail,  and  watched  the  dying  sunset. 

"It  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  on  earth,"  said 
Cleo  Ballard,  and  she  sighed  vaguely. 

The  Japanese  turned  and  looked  at  her  in  the 
semi-darkness. 

"Nay!  you  are  more  beautiful,"  he  said,  and  his 
face  was  eloquent  in  its  earnestness.  The  girl 
turned  her  head  away. 

8 


aa 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Tell  me  about  the  women  in  Japan,"  she  said, 
changing  the  subject.  "Are  not  they  very  beau- 
tiful?" 

Takashima's  thoughtful  face  looked  out  across 
the  ocean  waste.  "Yes,"  he  said  slowly;  "I  have 
always  thought  so.  Still,  none  of  them  is  as  beau- 
tiful as  you  are — or — or — as  kind,"  he  added, 
hesitatingly. 

The  man's  homage  intoxicated  Cleo.  She  knew 
all  the  men  worth  knowing  on  board — had  known 
many  of  them  in  America.  She  had  tired,  bored 
herself,  flirting  with  them.  It  was  a  refreshment  to 
her  now  to  wake  the  admiration — the  sentiment — of 
this  young  Japanese,  because  they  had  told  her  he 
always  concealed  his  emotions  so  skillfully.  Not  for 
a  moment  did  she,  even  to  herself,  admit  that  it 
was  more  than  a  mere  passing  fancy  she  had  for 
him.  She  could  not  help  it  that  he  admired  her, 
she  told  herself,  and  admiration  and  homage  were 
to  her  what  the  sun  and  rain  is  to  the  flowers. 
That  Takashima  could  never  really  be  anything  to 
her  she  knew  full  well;  and  yet,  with  a  woman's 
perversity,  she  was  jealous  even  at  the  thought  that 
any  other  woman  should  have  the  smallest  thought 
from  him.  It  is  strange,  but  true,  that  a  woman 
often  demands  the  entire  homage  and  love  of  a  man 
she  does  not  herself  actually  love,  and  only  because 
of  the  fact  that  he  does  love  her.  She  resents  even 
the  smallest  wavering  of  his  allegiance  to  her,  even 
though  she  herself  be  impossible  for  him.  It  was 
because  she  fancied  she  saw  a  rival  in  Miss  Morton 
that  for  a  moment  she  became  possessed  of  a  wish 


lii! 


id, 

lU- 

>ss 
ve 
u- 
d, 

w 
m 
id 
to 
)f 

[6 

>r 

it 

T 

■ 

» 

e 

3 

t 

t 


THE  DANCE  ON  DECK.  ,- 

witThir""  '™  **"'"'^'  =°  '-^  -  <">«  would  be 
When  Miss  Morton,  who  soon  perceived  th»f   ., 

Liicrn,  i^ieo  turned  and  said,  verv  sw^^^fKr.  "m 
don  t  mention  it. ' '  ^  "^ '     ^^^^^^ 


I 


•H 


MISo  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER   V. 


HEP   GENTLE  ENEMY. 


Enemies  are  often  easier  made  than  friends. 
Fanny  Morton  was  not  an  agreeable  enemy  to 
have.  She  was  one  of  those  women  who  were  con- 
stantly on  the  look-out  for  objects  of  interest.  She 
was  interested  in  Takashima,  as  was  nearly  every 
one  who  met  him.  In  the  first  place,  Takashima 
was  a  desirable  person  to  know;  a  graduate  of 
Harvard  University,  of  irreproachable  manners, 
and  high  brsieding,  wealthy,  cultured,  and  even 
good-looking.  Moreover,  the  innate  goodness  and 
purity  of  the  young  man's  character  were  re- 
flected in  his  face.  In  fact,  he  was  a  most  desir- 
able person  to  know  for  those  who  were  bound  for 
the  Land  of  Sunrise.  That  he  could  secure  them 
the  entree  to  all  desirable  places  in  Japan,  they 
knew.  For  this  reason  if  for  no  other  Takashima 
was  popular,  but  it  was  more  on  account  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  young  man,  and  his  gentle 
courtesy  to  every  one,  that  the  passengers  sought 
him  out  and  made  much  of  him  on  the  steamer. 
And  it  was  partly  because  he  was  so  popular  that 
Cleo  Ballard,  with  the  usual  vanity  of  woman,  found 
him  doubly  interesting.  In  his  gentle  w^y  he  had 
retained  all  of  them  as  his  friends,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  attached  himself  almost  entirely  to 


HER  GENTLE  ENEMY. 


25 


Miss  Ballard.  On  the  other  hand,  the  girl  had 
suffered  a  good  deal  from  the  malicious  jealousy  of 
some  of  the  women  passengers,  who  made  her  a 
target  for  all  their  spite  and  spleen.  But  she 
enjoyed  it  rather  than  otherwise. 

"Most  people  do  not  like  me  as  well  as  you  do, 
Mr.  Takashima,"  she  said  once.  He  had  looked 
puzzled  a  moment,  and  she  had  added,  "That  is 
because  I  don't  like  everybody.  You  ought  to  feel 
flattered  that  I  like  you. ' ' 

Fanny  Morton  could  not  forgive  Cleo  the  half-cut 
of  the  evening  of  the  hop.  A  few  days  afterwards 
she  said  to  a  group  of  women  as  they  lay  back  in 
their  deck-chairs,  languidly  watching  the  restless 
waves,  "I  wonder  what  Cleo  Ballard's  little  game  is 
with  young  Takashima?" 

She  had  told  them  of  the  conversation  on  deck,  of 
the  young  Japanese's  peculiar  familiarity  and  hom- 
age in  addressing  her,  and  of  the  flowery,  though 
earnest,  compliments  he  had  paid  her. 

"She  must  be  in  love  with  him,"  one  of  the  party 
volunteered. 

"No,  she  is  not,"  contradicted  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  Cleo's,  "because  Cleo  could  not  be  in  love 
with  any  one.     The  girl  never  had  any  heart. " 

"I  thought  she  was  engaged  to  Arthur  Sinclair, 
and  was  going  out  to  join  him  in  Tokyo,"  put  in  an 
anxious-looking  little  woman  who  had  spent  almost 
the  entire  voyage  on  her  back,  being  troubled  with 
a  fresh  convulsion  of  seasickness  every  time  the  sea 
got  the  least  bit  rough.  It  is  wonderful  what  a  lot  of 
information  is  often  to  be  got  out  of  one  of  these 


? 


26 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


I 


linvalids.  During  the  greater  part  of  the  voyage 
they  merely  listen  to  all  about  them,  and,  as  a  rule, 
the  rest  are  inclined  to  regard  them  as  so  many 
dummies.  Then,  toward  the  close  of  the  voyage, 
they  will  surprise  you  with  their  [knowledge  on  a 
question  that  has  never  been  settled. 

"That  is  news,"  said  Cleo's  old  acquaintance, 
sitting  up  in  her  chair,  and  regarding  the  little 
woman  with  undisguised  amazement.  "Wlio  told 
you,  my  dear?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  her  discussing  it  with  her 
cousin  the  other  day,"  the  woman  answered,  with 
visible  pleasure  that  she  was  now  an  object  of 
interest. 

"My  dear,"  repeated  the  old  acquaintance  once 
more,  settling  her  ample  form  in  the  canvas  chair, 
"really,  I  must  have  been  stupid  not  to  have 
guessed  this.  Why,  of  course,  I  understand  now. 
That  was  what  all  that  finery  meant  in  Washington, 
I  suppose.  That  is  why  her  mother  has  been  so 
mysteriously  uneasy  about  Cleo's — and  I  must  say 
it  now — outrageous  flirtation  with  the  Japanese. 
Every  time  she  has  been  able  to  come  on  deck — 
and,  poor  thing,  it  has  not  been  often  through  the 
voyage  so  far — she  has  called  Cleo  away  from  Mr. 
Takashima,  and  I've  even  heard  her  reprove  her, 
and  remonstrate  with  her.     Well!  well!" 

Fanny  Morton  was  smiling  as  she  stole  away  from 
the  party. 


A  VEILED  HINT.                                 27 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  VEILED  HINT. 

Always,  after  dinner,  the  young  Japanese  would 

come  on  deck,  having  generally  finished  his  meal 
before  most  of  the  others,  and  rarely  sitting  through 
the  eight  or  ten  courses.  Like  the  rest  of  his 
countrymen,  he  was  a  passionate  lover  of  nature. 
Sunsets  are  more  beautiful  at  sea,  when  they  kiss 
and  mirror  their  wonderful  beauty  in  the  ocean, 
than  anywhere  else,  p?^  !:aps. 

Fannie  Morton  found  him  in  his  favorite  seat — back 
against  a  small  alcove,  his  small,  daintily  manicured 
fingers  resting  on  the  back  of  a  chair  in  front  of  him. 

She  pulled  a  chair  along  the  deck,  and  sat  down 
beside  him. 

"You  are  selfish,  Mr.  Takashima,"  she  said,  "to 
enjoy  the  sunset  all  alone." 

"Will  you  not  enjoy  it  also?"  he  asked,  quite 
gravely.  "I  like  much  better,  though,"  he  con- 
tinued, seeing  that  she  had  come  up  more  to  talk 
than  to  enjoy  the  sunset,  "to  look  at  the  skies  and 
the  water  rather  than  to  talk.  It  is  most  strange, 
but  one  does  not  care  to  talk  as  much  at  sea  as  on 
land  when  the  evenings  advance." 

"And  yet,"  Miss  Morton  said,  "I  have  often  heard 
Miss  Ballard's  voice  conversing  with  you  in  the 
evening. ' ' 


1 1 


I 


% 


ifi 


48 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


The  Japanese  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he 
said,  very  simply  and  honestly,  '*Ah,  yes,  but  I 
would  rather  hear  her  voice  than  all  else  on  earth. 
She  is  different  to  me." 

The  girl  reddened  a  trifle  impatiently. 

"Most  men  love  flirts,"  she  said,  sharply. 

The  Japanese  smiled  quietly,  confidently. 

"Yes,  perhaps,"  he  said,  vaguely,  purposely 
misleading  her. 

Tom  Ballard's  hearty  voice  broke  in  on  them. 

"Well,"  he  said,  cheerfully,  "thought  I'd  find 
Cleo  with  you,  Takie, ' '  and  then,  smiling  gallantly 
at  Miss  Morton,  "but  really,  I  see  you've  got  'metal 
more  attractive.' "  He  winked,  and  continued, 
"Cousins  are  privileged  beings.  Can  say  lots  of 
things  no  one  else  dare." 

Fanny  Morton's  face  brightened.  She  was  a 
pretty  girl,  with  pale  brown  hair,  and  a  bright, 
sharp  face. 

"Oh,  now,  Mr.  Ballard,  you  are  flattering.  What 
would  Miss  Cleo  say?" 

Tom  scratched  his  head.  "She  would  prove,  I 
dare  say,  that  I  was — a — lying. ' ' 

The  play  on  words  had  been  entirely  lost  on 
Takashima,  who  had  become  absorbed  in  his  own 
reveries.  Then  Miss  Morton's  sharp  words  caught 
his  ear,  and  he  turned  to  hear  what  she  was  saying. 
She  had  mentioned  the  name  of  an  old  American 
friend  of  his,  who  had  gone  to  Japan  some  years 
before. 

"I  suppose,"  Miss  Morton  had  said,  "she  will  be 
pretty  glad  when  the  voyage  is  over."     She  had 


ii 


A  VEILED  HINT. 


29 


paused  here,  and  Tom  had  prompted  her  with  a 
quick  query,  "Why?" 

"Oh!  for  Arthur  Sinclair's  sake,"  she  had 
retorted,  and  laughingly  left  them. 

Casually,  Tom  turned  to  Takashima.  "Remem- 
ber Sinclair,  Takie?  Great  big  fellow  at  Harvard — 
in  for  all  the  races — rowing— everything  going — in 
fact,  all-round  fine  fellow?" 

"Yes." 

"Nice— fellow." 

"Yes." 

"Er — Cleo — that  is,  both  Cleo  and  I,  are  old 
friends  of  his,  you  know. ' ' 

Takashima's  face  was  still  enigmati::al. 

Cleo  had  had  a  headache  that  evening,  and  had 
returned  to  her  stateroom  after  dinner.  The  water 
was  rough,  and  few  of  the  passengers  remained  on 
deck.  Quite  late  in  the  evening,  Tom  went  up. 
The  sombre,  silent  figure  of  the  Japanese  was  still 
there.     He  had  not  moved. 

"Past  eleven,"  Tom  called  out  to  him,  and  the 
gently  modulated  voice  of  the  Japanese  answered, 
"Yes;  I  will  retire  soon." 


ht 


)e 
id 


30 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


JEALOUSY  WITHOUT  LOVE. 

The  next  day  Cleo  rallied  Takashima  because  he 
was  unusually  quiet,  and  asked  him  the  cause.  He 
turned  and  looked  at  her  very  directly. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  Miss  Ballard,"  he  said,  "why 
Mr.  Sinclair  will  be  so  overjoyed  that  you  come  to 
Japan?" 

The  abrupt  question  startled  the  girl.  She 
flushed  a  violent,  almost  angry  red,  and  for  a 
moment  did  not  reply.  Then  she  recovered  herself 
and  said:  "He  is  a  very  dear  friend  of  ours." 

The  Japanese  looked  thoughtfully  at  her.  There 
was  an  embarrassed  flush  on  her  face.  Again  he 
questioned  her  very  directly,  still  with  his  eyes  on 
her  face. 

"Tell  me,  Miss  Ballard,  also,  do  you  flirt  only 
with  me?" 

Cleo's  face  was  averted  a  moment.  With  an 
effort  she  turned  toward  him,  a  light  answer  on 
the  tip  of  her  tongue.  Something  in  the  earnest, 
questioning  gaze  of  the  young  man  held  her  a 
moment  and  changed  her  gay  answer.  Her  voice 
was  very  low : 

"No,"  she  said.  "Please  don't  believe  that  of 
me." 

She  understood  that  some  one  had  been  trying  to 


\\ 


JEALOUSY  WITHOUT  LOVE. 


31 


l\ 


poison  him  against  her.  Her  eyes  were  dewy — 
with  self-pity,  perhaps,  for  at  that  moment  the 
coquette  in  her  was  subdued,  and  the  natural  liking, 
almost  sentiment,  she  had  for  Takashima  was  para- 
mount. A  silence  fell  between  them.  Takashima 
broke  it  after  a  while  to  say,  very  gently:  "Will  you 
for  jive  me.  Miss  Ballard?" 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive." 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  Takashima,  sadly,  "because  I 
have  misjudged  you  so?"  His  voice  was  raised  in  a 
half-question.     The  girl's  eyes  were  suffused. 

* '  Let  us  not  talk  of  it  any  more, '  *  he  continued, 
noticing  her  distress  and  embarrassment.  "I  will 
draw  your  chair  back  here  and  we  will  talk.  What 
will  we  talk  of?  Of  America— of  Japan?  Of  you — 
and  of  myself?" 

"My  life  has  been  uninteresting,"  she  said;  "let 
us  not  talk  of  it  to-night, — but  tell  me  about  yours 
instead.  You  must  have  some  very  pretty  remem- 
brances of  Japan.  Eight  years  is  not  such  a  long 
time,  after  all." 

"No;  that  is  true,  and  yet  one  may  become  almost 
a  different  being  during  that  time."  He  paused 
thoughtfully.  "Still,  I  have  many  beautiful 
remembrances  of  my  home — all  my  memories,  in 
fact,  are  sweet  of  it. ' '  Again  he  paused  to  think, 
and  continued  slowly:  "I  will  also  have  beautiful 
memories  of  America. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  they  will  be  different,"  said  the  girl, 
"for,  of  course,  America  is  not  your  home." 

"One  often,  though,  becomes  homesick — let  us 
call  it — for  a  country  which  is  not  our  own,  but 


32 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


M      I 


' 


where  we  have  sojourned  for  a  time,"  he  rejoined, 
quickly. 

"Then,  if  Japan  is  as  beautiful  as  they  say  it  is,  I 
will  doubtless  be  longing  for  it  when  I  return  to 
America." 

A  flush  stole  to  the  young  man's  eager  face. 

"Ah!  Miss  Ballard,  perhaps  if  you  will  say  that 
when  you  have  lived  there  a  while,  I  might  find 
courage  to  say  that  which  I  cannot  say  now.  I 
would  wish  first  of  all  to  know  how  you  like  my 
home." 

The  girl  put  her  hands  at  the  back  of  her  head, 
and  leaned  back  in  the  deck-chair  with  a  sudden 
nervous  movement. 

"Let  us  wait  till  then,"  she  said,  hastily.  "Tell 
me  now,  instead,  what  is  your  most  beautiful 
memory  of  Japan?" 

"My  pleasantest  memory,"  he  said,  "is  of  a  little 
girl  named  Nume.  She  was  only  ten  years  old  when 
I  left  home,  but  she  was  bright  and  beautiful  as  the 
wild  birds  that  fly  across  the  valleys  and  make 
their  home  close  by  where  we  lived." 

A  flush  had  risen  to  the  girl's  face.  She  stirred 
nervously,  and  there  was  a  slight  faltering  in  her 
speech  as  she  said:  "Tom  once  told  me  of  her — he 
said  you  had  told  him — that  you  had  told  him — you 
were  betrothed  to  her. ' ' 

She  had  expected  hxm  to  look  abashed  for  a 
moment,  but  his  face  was  as  calm  as  ever. 

"I  will  not  know  that  till  I  am  home.  My  plans 
are  unformed."  He  looked  in  her  face.  "They 
depend  a  great  deal  on  /^«, ' '  he  continued. 


I 


JEALOUSY  WITHOUT  LOVE. 


3$ 


For  a  moment  the  girl's  lips  half-parted  to  tell 
him  of  her  own  betrothal,  but  she  could  not  summon 
the  courage  to  do  so  while  he  looked  at  her  with 
such  confidence  and  trust;  besides,  her  woman's 
vanity  was  touched. 

"Tell  me  about  Numb,"  she  said,  and  there  was 
the  least  touch  of  pique  in  her  voice. 

"Her  father  and  mine  are  neighbors,  and  very 
dear  friends.  I  have  known  her  all  my  life.  When 
she  was  a  little  girl  I  used  to  carry  her  on  my 
shoulders  over  brooks  and  through  the  woods  and 
mountain  passes,  because  she  was  so  little,  and  I 
was  always  afraid  she  would  fall  and  hurt  her.self. " 

Cleo  was  silent  now.  She  scarcely  stirred  while 
the  young  man  was  speaking,  but  listened  to  him 
with  strange  interest.  Takashima  continued:  "I 
used  to  tell  her  I  would  some  day  be  her  Otto  (hus- 
band), and  because  she  was  so  very  fond  of  me  that 
pleased  her  very  much,  and  when  I  said  so  to  our 
fathers,  it  pleased  them  also." 

The  girl  was  nervously  twisting  her  little  hand- 
kerchief into  odd  knots.  She  was  not  looking  at 
Takashima. 

"How  queer,"  she  said,  "that  our  childhood 
memories  are  sometimes  so  clear  to  us!  We  so 
often  look  back  on  them  and  think  how — how 
absurd  we  were  then.  Don't  you  think  there  is 
really  more  in  the  past  to  regret  than  anything  else?" 

Takashima  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"No,"  he  said,  almost  shortly,  "I  have  nothing  to 
regret." 

"And  yet,"  she  persisted,   "neither  of  you  w^as 


34 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


old  enough  to — to  care  for  the  other  truly."  Her 
words  were  irrelevant,  and  she  knew  it. 

"We  were  inseparable  always,"  the  young  man 
answered.  *'We  were  children,  both  of  us,  but  in 
Japan  very  often  we  are  always  children — always 
young  in  heart." 

Cleo  could  not  have  told  why  she  felt  the  sudden 
overwhelm*,  g  rebellion  against  his  allegiance  to 
Num^,  even  though  she  knew  only  too  well  that 
Takashima's  heart  was  safe  in  her  own  keeping. 
With  a  woman's  perversity  and  delight  in  being 
constantly  assured  of  his  love  for  her  in  various 
ways,  in  dwelling  on  it  to  feed  her  vanity,  and  yes, 
in  wishing  to  hear  the  man  who  loved  her  disclaim 
— even  ridicule— one  whom  in  the  past  he  might 
have  cared  for,  she  said : 

"Do  you  love  her?" 

"Love?"  the  Japanese  repeated,  dwelling  softly 
on  the  word.  "That  is  not  the  word  now.  Miss 
Ballard.  I  have  only  known  its  meaning  since  I 
have  met  you,"  he  added,  gently. 

The  girl's  heart  beat  with  a  pleasurable  wildness. 
It  was  sweet  to  hear  these  words  from  the  lips  of 
one  who  hesitated  always  so  deferentially  from 
speaking  his  feelings;  from  one  who  a  moment 
before  had  filled  her  with  a  fear  that,  after  all, 
another  might  interest  him  just  as  she  had  done;  for 
coquettes  are  essentially  selfish. 

"You  will  not  marry  her?"  she  questioned,  in  a 
low  voice. 

She  could  not  restrain  the  almost  pleading  tone 
that  crept  into  her  voice ;  for  though  she  kept  tell- 


JEALOUSY  WITHOUT  LOVE. 


35 


ing  herself  that  they  could  never  be  anything  to  each 
other,  and  that  she  already  loved  another,  yet, 
after  all,  was  she  so  sure  of  her  heart?  The  Japanese 
was  silent.  "That  will  depend,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"It  is  the  wish  of  our  fathers.  They  have  always 
looked  forward  to  it."  His  voice  was  very  sad  as  he 
added:  "Perhaps  I  should  grow  to  love  her.  Surely, 
I  would  try,  at  least,  to  do  my  duty  to  my  parents. ' ' 

With  a  sudden  effort  the  girl  rose  to  her  feet. 

"It  would  be  a  cruel  thing  to  do,"  she  said,  "cruel 
for  her  and  for  you.  It  would  be  fair  to  no  cvne. 
You  do  not  love;  therefore,  you  should  not  marry 
her."  Her  beautiful  eyes  challenged  him.  A  wild 
hope  crept  into  the  Japanese's  heart  that  the  girl 
must  surely  return  his  feeling  for  her,  or  she  would 
not  speak  so.  He  was  Americanized,  and  man  of 
the  world  enough,  to  understand  somewhat  of  these 
things.  He  purposely  misled  her,  taking  pleasure 
in  the  girl's  evident  resentment  at  his  marriage  with 
Num^. 

"I  would  never  marry  a  man  I  did  not  love,"  she 
continued.  "No!  I  would  have  to  love  him  with 
my  whole  heart. ' ' 

"It  is  different  in  Japan,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"There  we  do  not  always  marry  for  love,  but  rather 
to  please  the  parents.  We  try  always  to  love  after 
marriage — and  often  we  succeed." 

"Your  customs  are — are — barbarous,  then,"  Cleo 
said,  defiantly.  "We  in  America  could  not  under- 
stand them." 

There  was  a  vague  reproach  now  in  her  voice. 
The  Japanese  had  risen  also.     He  was  smiling,  as 


36 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


he  looked  at  the  girl.  Perhaps  she  felt  uncon- 
sciously the  tenderness  of  that  look,  for  she  turned 
her  own  head  away  persistently. 

"Miss  Ballard,"  he  said,  softly,— "Miss  Cleo— I 
do  not  disagree  with  you,  after  all,  as  you  think. 
It  is  true,  as  you  say — there  should  be  no  marriage 
without  love. ' ' 

"And  yet  you  are  willing  to  follow  the  ancient 
customs  of  your  country,"  she  said,  half-pettishly — 
almost  scornfully. 

"I  did  not  say  that,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"Yes,  but  you  make  one  believe  it,"  she  said. 

"I  did  not  mean  to.  I  wanted  only  that  you 
should  believe  that  it  might  be  so  for  my  father's 
sake,  if — if  the  one  I  did  love  was — impossible  to 
me. ' '  There  was  a  piercing  passion  in  his  voice 
that  she  had  not  thought  him  capable  of. 

One  of  those  inexplicable,  sudden  waves  of 
gentleness  and  tenderness  that  sometimes  sweep 
over  a  woman,  came  over  her.  She  turned  and 
faced  Takashima  with  a  look  on  her  face  that  would 
have  made  the  coldest  lover's  heart  throb  with 
delight  and  hope. 

"You  must  be  always  sure — always  sure  she  is — 
she  is  impossible." 

She  was  appalled  at  her  own  words  as  soon  as 
they  were  uttered. 

The  Japanese  had  taken  a  step  nearer  to  her.  He 
half  held  his  hands  out. 

"I  am  going  below, "  she  said,  with  sudden  fright, 
"I — I — indeed,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  talking 
about." 


THE  MAN  SHE  DID  LOVE. 


37 


CHAPTER    VIII. 
THE    MAN   SHE   DID  LOVE. 

When  she  reached  her  stateroom,  she  threw  her- 
self on  the  couch,  being  overcome  by  a  sudden 
weakness.  She  could  not  understand  nor  recognize 
herself.  It  was  impossible  that  she  was  in  love  with 
Takashima,  for  she  already  loved  another;  and  yet 
she  could  not  understand  why  she  should  feel  so 
keenly  about  Takashima,  nor  why  it  hurt  her, — the 
idea  of  his  caring  for  any  one  else.  Was  it  merely 
the  selfishness  and  vanity  of  a  coquette?  Cleo  could 
scarcely  remember  a  time,  since  she  was  old  enough 
to  understand  that  man  was  woman's  natural  play- 
thing, that  she  had  not  thoughtlessly  and  gayly 
coquetted,  flirted  and  led  on  all  the  men  who  had 
dared  to  fall  in  love  with  her.  There  was  so  seldom 
a  real  pang  with  her,  because  she  had  seldom  per- 
mitted any  affair  to  go  beyond  a  certain  length. 
That  is,  almost  from  the  beginning  she  would  let 
them  know  that  her  heart  was  not  touched — that  she 
was  merely  playing  with  them,  because  she  could 
not  help  being  a  flirt.  Then  Arthur  Sinclair  had 
come  into  her  life.  As  she  thought  of  him  a 
wonderful  tenderness  stole  over  her  face,  a  tender- 
ness that  Takashima  had  never  been  able  to  call 
there. 

It  had  been  a  case  of  love  on  her  side  almost  from 


38 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


the  first  night  they  had  met.  But  with  the  man  it 
was  different;  and  nprhaps  it  was  because  of  the 
fact  that  he  at  first  1  been  almost  indifferent  to 
her,  that  the  girl  o  had  wearied  of  the  over- 
attention  of  the  other  men,  who  had  loved  her 
unquestioningly,  and  whose  love  had  been  such  an 
easy  thing  to  win,  specially  picked  him  out  as  the 
one  man  to  whom  she  could  give  her  heart.  How 
often  it  happens  that  she  who  has  been  loved  and 
courted  by  every  one,  should  actually  love  the  only 
one  who  perhaps  had  been  almost  indifferent  to  her ! 
True,  Sinclair  had  paid  her  a  good  deal  of  attention 
from  the  beginning,  but  it  was  because  he  admired 
her  solely  on  account  of  her  beautiful  face,  and 
because  she  was  popular  everywhere  with  every  one, 
and  it  touched  his  vanity  that  she  should  single  him 
out. 

Later,  the  girl's  wonderful  charm  had  grown  on 
him ;  and  one  night  when  they  stood  on  the  conserv- 
atory balcony  of  her  home,  when  the  moon's  kindly 
rays  touched  her  head  and  lighted  her  face  with  an 
almost  wild  beauty,  when  the  perfume  of  the  roses 
in  her  breast  and  hair  had  stolen  into  his  senses, 
and  the  great  speaking  eyes  told  the  story  of  her 
heart,  Sinclair  had  told  her  he  loved  her.  He  had 
told  her  so  with  a  wild  passion ;  had  told  her  so  at  a 
time  when,  a  moment  before,  he  had  not  himself 
known  it.  That  she  was  wonderfully  beautiful  he 
had  always  known,  but  he  had  thought  himself 
proof  against  her.  He  was  not.  It  came  to  him 
that  night — the  knowledge  of  an  overmastering  love 
for  her  that   had  suddenly  possessed  him — a  love 


THE  MAN  SHE  DID  LOVE. 


39 


that  was  so  unexpected  and  violent  in  its  coming, 
that  half  of  its  passion  was  spent  in  that  one  glorious 
first  night,  when  she  had  answered  his  passionate 
declaration  solely  by  holding  her  hands  out  to  him, 
and  he  had  drawn  her  into  his  arms. 

Sinclair  had  returned  to  his  rooms  that  night 
almost  dazed.  Did  he  love  her?  he  asked  himself. 
A  memory  came  back  of  the  girl's  wonderful 
beauty,  of  the  love  that  had  reflected  itself  in  her 
eyes  and  had  beautified  them  so.  And  yet  he  had 
seen  her  often  so — she  had  always  been  beautiful, 
but  before  that  he  had  been  unable  to  call  up  any- 
thing more  than  strong  admiration  of  her  beauty. 
Was  it  not  that  he  had  drank  too  much  wine  that 
night?  No!  he  seldom  did  that.  It  was  the  girl's 
beauty  and  the  knowledge  that  she  loved  him  that 
had  turned  his  head ;  it  was  the  wine  too,  perhaps, 
and  the  surroundings,  the  moonlight,  the  flowers, 
their  fragrance — everything  combined.  And  then, 
having  thought  confusedly  over  the  whole  thing, 
Arthur  Sinclair  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  walked 
restlessly  up  and  down  his  room — because  he  was 
not  sure  of  his  own  heart  after  all. 

Cleo  Ballard  had  known  nothing  of  this  struggle 
he  had  had  with  himself.  After  that  night  he  had 
been  an  ideal  lover, — always  considerate,  gentle, 
and  tender.  The  girl's  imperious  nature  had 
melted  under  the  great  love  that  had  come  into  her 
life.  She  ceased  for  a  time  to  be  a  coquette.  Then 
she  was  only  a  loving,  tender  woman. 

It  was  hardly  a  month  after  this  that  Sinclair  was 
appointed  American  Vice-Consul  at  Kyoto,  Japan. 


40 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


He  had  told  Cleo  very  gently  of  the  appointment, 
and  they  had  discussed  their  future  together.  It 
meant  separation  for  a  time,  for  Sinclair  did  not  urge 
an  early  marriage,  and  Cleo  Ballard  was  perhaps 
too  proud  to  want  it. 

"We  will  marry,"  Sinclair  had  said,  "when  I  am 
thoroughly  established,  when  I  have  something  to 
offer  you — when  I  can  afford  to  keep  my  wife  as  I 
would  like  to  keep  you." 

The  girl  had  answered  with  half-quivering  lip: 
"Neither  of  us  is  poor  now,  Arthur;"  and  Sinclair 
had  answered,  hastily,  "Yes,  but  I  had  better  make 
a  place  in  the  world  for  myself  first — get  estab- 
lished, you  see,  dear.  We  don't  need  to  hurry.  We 
have  lots  of  time  yet. ' ' 

Cleo  had  remained  silent. 

"When  I  am  settled  I  will  send  for  you  to  join 
me,  dear,"  Sinclair  had  added,  "if  you  are  willing  to 
come." 

"Willing!"  she  had  answered,  with  indignant 
passion.  "Oh,  Arthur,  I  am  willing  to  go  anywhere 
where  you  are. ' ' 

Her  mother's  illness,  soon  after  this,  absorbed 
Cleo  for  a  time,  so  that  when  Sinclair  left  her,  the 
date  of  their  marriage  still  remained  unsettled. 

That  was  three  years  before.  Since  then  the  girl 
had  kept  up  an  almost  constant  correspondence  with 
Sinclair.  His  letters  were  like  him,  tender  and 
loving,  almost  boyish  in  their  tone  of  joyousness,  for 
Sinclair  liked  his  new  home  and  position  so  much 
that  he  wanted  to  remain  there  altogether.  He 
wrote  to  Cleo,  asking  if  she  would  not  now  come  to 


t 


THK  MAN  SHE  DID  LOVE. 


41 


.^: 


%. 


Japan  and  judge  for  them,  and  if  she  liked  the 
country  they  would  live  there  altogether;  if  not — 
they  would  return  to  America. 

The  girl's  pride  had  long  been  roused  in  her,  and 
but  for  her  love  for  Sinclair  she  might  have  given 
him  up  long  before.  But  always  the  overmastering 
love  she  had  for  him  kept  her  waiting,  waiting  on 
for  him — waiting  for  him  to  send  for  her  as  he  had 
promised  he  would.  It  is  true,  she  had  grown  used 
to  his  absence,  and  often  tried  to  console  herself 
with  the  homage  and  love  given  by  others,  but  it 
could  not  be — her  heart  turned  always  back  to  the 
man  she  had  loved  from  the  first,  and  even  the  little 
flirtations  she  indulged  in  were  half-hearted.  Some- 
times Sinclair's  letters  showed  a  trace  of  haste  and 
carelessness,  often  they  were  almost  cold  and  per- 
functory. At  such  times  she  would  plunge  into  a 
round  of  reckless  gayety,  and  try  to  forget  for  the 
time  being  her  unsatisfied  longing  and  love.  And 
now  she  was  on  her  way  to  join  him.  The  voyage 
was  long,  and  would  have  been  tedious  had  it  not 
been  for  Takashima.  He  gave  her  a  new  interest. 
Most  of  the  other  passengers  she  found  uninterest- 
ing. Sinclair's  last  letters,  although  speaking  of 
her  trip,  and  seemingly  iirging  her  to  come, 
appeared  to  her,  sometimes,  almost  forced.  The 
girl's  proud,  spoiled  heart  rebelled.  It  was  with  a 
feeling  as  much  of  hunger  for  sympathy  and  love, 
as  of  coquetry,  that  she  had  started  her  acquaint- 
ance with  Takashima,  and  now  as  she  lay  in  the 
narrow  little  couch  in  her  room,  she  was  asking  her 
heart  with  a  sudden  fear  whether  her  hunger  for 


I 


42 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


love  had  overpowered  her.  She  was  of  a  passion- 
ate, intense  nature.  It  galled  her  always  that  she 
was  separated  from  the  man  she  loved, — that  she 
could  not  at  once  have  by  her  the  love  he  had  pro- 
tested he  felt  for  her.  She  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillows  and  sobbed  bitterly.  With  a  passionate 
nervousness,  she  thrust  his  picture  away  from  her, 
and  tried  to  think,  instead,  of  Takashima,  the  gentle 
young  Japanese  who  now  loved  her — not  as  Sinclair 
i:ad  done,  with  a  passion  of  a  moment  that  swept 
h'^x  from  her  feet,  but  with  deference  and  respect, 
anil  v'»t  ^-ith  as  strong  a  love  as  she  could  have 
Oesirc. 


MERELY  A  WOMAN. 


43 


CHAPTER   IX. 


MERELY  A  WOMAN. 


Even  a  woman  in  love  can  put  behind  her  easily, 
for  a  time,  the  image  of  the  one  she  at  heart  loves, 
when  she  replaces  it  with  one  for  whom  she  cares 
(not,  perhaps,  in  the  same  wild  way  as  for  the 
other,  but  with  a  sentiment  that  is  tantamount  to  a 
flickering,  wavering  love — a  love  of  a  moment,  a 
love  awakened  by  gentle  words — and  perhaps  put 
away  from  her  after  she  has  reasoned  it  out  to  her- 
self) ;  for  it  is  true  that  the  best  cure  for  love  is  to  try 
to  love  another. 

Cleo  Ballard  was  not  heartless.  She  was  merely 
a  woman.  That  is  why,  half  an  hour  after  she  had 
wept  so  passionately,  she  was  smiling  at  her  own 
beautiful  face  in  the  mirror,  as  she  brushed  her 
long  wavy  hair  before  it. 

She  was  thinking  of  Takashima,  and  of  his  love 
for  her,  which  he  could  not  summon  the  courage  to 
tell  her  of,  and  which  she  tried  always  to  prevent 
his  doing.  There  was  a  stubborn,  half  pettish  look 
on  her  face  when  she  thought  of  his  possible  love 
for  "the  Japanese  girl." 

* '  Even  if  I  cannot  be  anything  to  him, ' '  she  told 
herself,  remorselessly,  "still,  if  he  does  not  love  her, 
I'm  doing  both  a  kindness  in  preventing  his  marry- 
ing her." 


44 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


i'X 


She  paused  in  her  toilet,  and  sat  down  a  moment 
to  think. 

"I  can't  analyze  my  own  feelings,"  she  said,  half- 
fretfuUy.  "I  don't  see  why  I  should  feel  so — so  bad 
at  the  idea  of  his — his  caring  for  any  one  else.  I 
am  not  in  love  with  him.  That  is  foolish.  A 
woman  cannot  be  in  love  with  two  men  at  once. ' ' 

She  smiled.  "How  strange!  I  believe  it  is  true, 
though,  and  yet — and  yet — if  it  is  so — how  differ- 
ently I  care  for  them ! ' ' 

She  rose  again,  and  commenced  twisting  her  hair 
up. 

"Oh,  how  provoking  it  is!  I  don't  believe  there 
are  many  girls  who  would  admit  it — and  yet  it  is 
true — that  we  can  love  one  man  and  be  'in  love'  with 
another."  She  pushed  the  last  pin  into  her  hair 
impatiently.  "I  believe  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact 
that  he — that  he — might  really  care  for  some  one 
else — I'd  give  him  up  now,  but  somehow,  as  it  is — 
Oh!  how  selfish — how  mean  I  am!"  She  stopped 
talking  to  herself,  and  opening  the  door  called  out 
to  her  mother  in  the  next  room : 

"Mother  dear,  are  you  dressing  for  dinner  yet?" 

The  mother's  weak  voice  answered:  "No,  dear; 
I  shall  not  be  at  the  table  to-night. ' ' 

"Oh,  mother,  I  want  you  with  me  to-night,"  she 
said,  regretfully,  going  into  her  mother's  room, 

"You  want  me  with  you?"  said  the  mother,  with 
mild  astonishment.  "Why,  my  dear,  I  thought— 
you  usually  like  being  alone — or — or  with  Mr. — 
er — with  the  Japanese." 

"Not  to-night,  mother — not  to-night,"  she  said, 


MERELY  A  WOMAN. 


45 


and  put  her  head  down  on  her  mother's  neck  with  a 
half-caress,  a  habit  she  had  had  when  a  little  girl, 
and  which  sometimes  returned  to  her  when  in  a 
loving  mood. 

"I  don't  understand  myself  to-night,  mother,"  she 
whispered. 

The  peevish,  nervous  tones  of  the  invalid  mother 
repulsed  her. 

"My  dear,  do  not  ruffle  my  hair  so — There!  go  on 
to  the  dining-room  like  a  good  girl.  And  do^  dear, 
be  careful.  I  am  so  afraid  of  your  becoming  too 
fond  of  this — this  Japanese.  You  are  always  talk- 
ing about  him  now,  and  Tom  says  you  are  insepa- 
rable on  deck. ' ' 

The  girl  raised  her  head,  and  rose  from  her 
kneeling  posture  beside  her  mother.  There  was  a 
cold  glint  in  her  eyes. 

"Really,  mother,  you  need  not  fear  for  me,"  she 
said,  coldly.  "Tom  only  says  things  for  the  sake  of 
hearing  himself  talk — you  ought  to  know  better  than 
to  mind  him. ' ' 

"We  are  so  near  Japan  now,"  the  mother  said, 
peevishly,  "and  we  have  waited  three  years.  I  am 
not  strong  enough  to  stand  anything  like — like  the 
breaking  of  your  engagement  now.  My  heart  is 
quite  set  on  Sinclair,  dear — you  must  not  disappoint 
me. 

"Mother — I — ,"  the  girl  commenced,  in  a  pained 
voice,  but  the  mother  interrupted  her  to  add,  as  she 
settled  back  in  her  pillows,  "There,  there,  my  dear, 
don't  fly  out  at  me — I  understand — I  really  can  trust 
you."     There  was  a  touch  of  tenderness  mingled 


f  I,' 


46 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


with  the  pride  in  the  last  hard  words:  "You  always 
knew  how  to  carry  your  heart,  my  dear. ' ' 

The  girl  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  looking 
bitterly  at  her  mother;  after  awhile  her  face  soft- 
ened a  trifle.  She  leaned  over  her  once  more  and 
kissed  the  faded  face.  ' '  Mother,  mother— you  really 
are  fond  of  me,  are  you  not?— let  us  be  kinder  to 
each  other." 


4' 
1  'i  I 


»'■! 


"WATCHING  THE  NIGHT." 


47 


CHAPTER  X. 


^       "WATCHING  THE  NIGHT." 

It  was  quite  a  wistful,  sad-faced  girl  who  took  her 
seat  at  the  table,  and  answered,  half  absently,  the 
light  jests  of  some  of  the  passengers. 

Tom's  sharp  ears  missed  her  usual  merry  tone. 
He  glanced  keenly  at  her,  as  she  sat  beside  him, 
eating  her  dinner  in  almost  absolute  silence. 

"What's  up,  Cleo?" 

"Nothing,  Tom." 

"Don't  fib,  now.  Yoa  are  not  in  the  habit  of 
wearing  such  a  countenance  for  nothing. ' ' 

"I  can't  help  my  countenance,  Tom, "  she  rejoined, 
with  just  a  suggestion  of  a  break  in  her  voice. 

Tom  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then 
delicately  turned  his  head  away.  After  dinner  he 
took  her  arm  very  affectionately,  and  they  strolled 
out  on  deck  together. 

Takashima  was  sitting  alone,  as  they  came  out. 
He  was  waiting  for  Cleo,  as  usual,  and  had  been 
watching  the  door  of  the  dining-room  expectantly. 
Tom  drew  her  off  in  a  different  direction  from  where 
the  Japanese  was  sitting.  For  a  short  time  they 
walked  up  and  down  the  deck,  neither  of  them 
speaking  a  word.  Then  Tom  broke  the  silence, 
saying  carelessly,  as  he  lit  a  cigar; 

"Mind  my  smoking,  sis?" 


I 


V 


i  i 


48 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"No,  Tom,"  the  j^irl  answered,  looking  at  him 
gratefully.  Instinctively  she  felt  the  ready  sym- 
pathy he  always  extended  to  her,  often  hout 
even  knowing  her  trouble,  and  seldom  asKing  for 
her  confidence.  When  she  was  worried  or  distressed 
about  anything,  Tom  would  take  her  very  firmly 
away  from  every  one,  and  if  she  had  anything  to 
tell  she  usually  told  it  to  him ;  for  since  they  had 
been  little  girl  and  boy  together  Tom  had  been  the 
recipient  of  all  her  woes.  When  he  was  a  little  boy 
of  twelve,  his  father  and  mother  both  having  died, 
Cleo's  father,  his  uncle,  had  taken  him  into  his 
family,  and  the  two  children  had  been  brought  up 
together.  After  the  death  of  his  uncle  he  ha  "*  stood 
to  the  mother  and  Cleo  as  father,  brother,  ''  son 
in  one,  and  they  both  became  very  depeuu  ...t  on 
him.  Once  in  a  while  when  he  was  feeling  excep- 
tionally loving  to  Cleo  he  would  call  her  "little  sis. " 
That  night  he  did  so  very  lovingly. 

"Feeling  blue,  little  sis?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  Tom." 

Tom  cleared  his  throat.     "Er — er — Takashima?" 

"No,  Tom — it  is  not  he.     It  is  mother." 

Tom  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  made  a  half-impa- 
tient exclamation. 

"Oh,  Tom,  I  do  want  to  love  her  so  much — but — 
but  she  won't  let  me.  I  mean — she  is  fond  of  me, 
and — and — proud,  I  suppose,  but  whenever  I  try  to 
get  close  to  her  she  repulses  me  in  some  way.  We 
ought  to  be  a  comfort  to  each  other,  but — but  there 
is  scarcely  any  feeling  between  us."  She  caught 
her  breath.     "Tom,  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter 


"WATCHING  THE  NIGHT." 


49 


with  me  to-night.      I — I — Oh,  Tom,   I  do  want  a 
little  sympathy  so  much." 

The  young-  man  threw  his  lighted  cigar  away. 
He  did  not  answer  Cleo,  but  he  drew  her  little 
hand  closer  through  his  arm.  After  a  time  the  girl 
quieted  down,  and  her  voice  had  lost  its  restlessness 
when  she  said:  "Dear  Tom — you  are  so  good." 

They  strolled  slowly  back  in  the  moonlight  to 
where  Takashima  was  sitting.  He  was  leaning- 
over  the  railing,  watching  the  dark  waves  beneath 
in  their  silvery,  shimmering  splendor,  touched  by 
the  moon's  rays.  He  turned  as  Tom  called  out  to 
him: 

"See  a— a  whale,  Takie?' 

"No;  I  was  merely  watching  the — the  night." 

Cleo  raise'  her  head  and  smiled  at  Tom,  both  of 
them  enjoying  the  Japanese's  naive  way  of  answer- 
ing. 

"I  was  watching  the  night."  he  repeated,  "and 
thinking  of  Miss  Cleo.  We  generally  enjoy  such 
sights  together. ' ' 

"Well,  to-night  I  thought  I  had  a  lien  on  her  for 
a  change,"  Tom  said.  "Cleo  is  too  popular  to  be 
monopolized  by  one  person,  you  know." 

The  Japanese  smiled — a  happy,  confident  smile. 
It  touched  the  girl,  and  she  said,  impetuously: 
"Tom,  it  always  depends  on  who  has  the  monopoly. ' ' 

Tom  answered  with  mock  sternness:  "Very  well, 
madam ;  I  leave  you  and  Takie  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  each  other." 

"Your  cousin  likes  you  very  much,  does  he  not?" 
the  Japanese  asked  her,  as  Tom  moved  away. 


I 


50 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


1 

i ! 

ill 


if 


u 


"Yes;  Tom  is  the  best  boy  in  the  world.  I  don't 
know  what  I'd  do  without  him."  She  leaned  her 
head  against  the  railing.  His  next  quiet,  meaning 
words  startled  her:  "Would  you  wish  to  marry  with 
him?"  She  laughed  outright;  for  she  perceived  the 
first  touch  of  jealousy  he  harl  'ihown  in  these  words. 

She  lifted  her  little  chin  in  its  old  saucy  fashion. 

"No — not  if  Tom  was  the  only  man  in  the  world. 
It  would  be  too  much  like  marrying  one's  brother." 

She  smiled  at  the  anxious  face  of  the  Japanese, 
He  bent  over  her  chair  a  moment,  then  he  drew 
back  and  stood  against  the  rail,  in  a  still  indecisive 
posture.  The  girl  knew  instinctively  what  he 
wanted  to  say.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  was 
tired,  and  her  heart  was  hungry  for  a  little  love, 
that  she  did  not  try  to  prevent  him  from  speaking. 

"This  afternoon,  Miss  Ballard,  your  words  gave 
me  courage.     Will  you  marry  with  ;«^.^"  he  asked. 

The  question  was  so  direct  she  could  not  evade  it. 
She  must  face  it  out  now.  Yet  she  could  find  no 
words  to  answer  at  first.  The  effort  it  had  cost  the 
Japanese  to  say  this  had  made  him  constrained,  for 
he  had  all  the  pride  of  a  Japanese  gentleman ;  and 
after  all  he  was  not  so  sure  that  the  girl  would 
accept  him.  He  had  been  told  it  was  customary  in 
America  to  speak  to  the  girl  herself  before  speaking 
to  the  parents,  and  it  was  in  a  stiff,  ceremonious  way 
that  he  did  so.     He  waited  silently  for  her  answer. 

"Don't  let  us  talk  about — about  such  things,"  she 
said;  and  again  there  was  that  little  break  in  her 
voice  that  had  been  there  when  Tom  had  walked 
with    her.      "Our — our    friendship    has    been    so 


Iff 


1   1 


"WATCHING  THE  NIGHT." 


51 
^^|^^!|tful,"she  added;  "don't  let  us  break  it  just 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  known  him  there 
was  a  note  of  sternness  in  Takashima's  voice 
^    "Love    should    not    break    friendship,"  he  said. 
It  should  rather  cement  it.  * ' 

The  wind  blew  her  hair  wildly  about  her  face  and 
m  her  restlessness  it  irritated  her.  She  put  her 
hands  up  and  held  back  the  light,  soft  curls  that  had 
escaped. 

''Shall  I  speak  to  your  mother?"  he  asked  her 
No!-No!"  she  said,  quickly;  "mother  has-has 
nothmgto  do  with  it." 

"Will  you  not  tell  me  what  to    expect,   then>" 
Ihe  sadness  of  his  voice  touched  the  girl's  heart 
brmgmg  the  tears  to  her  eyes. 
"I  cannot  answer  yet.     Wait  till  we  get  to  Japan 
Please  wait  till  then."  "^   ^ 

''I  tried  to  plan  ahead,"  he  said,  "but  you  are 
njrht,  Miss  Ballard.  You  will  want  some  time  to 
think  this  over.  It  will  be  but  five  days  now  before 
we  reach  Japan.  If  that  you  are  very  kind  to  me  in 
those  five  days  my  heart  shall  take  great  hope  of 
what  your  answer  will  be." 


t 


w^ 


H 


Sa 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  XL 
AT  THE  JOURNEY'S  END. 

Cleo  Ballard  could  not  have  told  what  it  was  that 
made  her  so  restless,  almost  feverish,  during  those 
remaining  five  days.  She  knew  Takashima  had 
meant  to  ask  her  to  show  in  some  way,  during  that 
time,  just  what  he  might  expect.  It  was  a^^ost  a 
prayer  to  her  to  spare  him,  if  she  knew  it  was  in 
vain.  But  the  girl  was  possessed,  during  those 
days,  with  an  almost  feverish  longing  for  his  com- 
panionship and  sympathy.  She  showed  it  con- 
stantly when  with  him ;  she  would  look  unspeakable 
longings  into  his  eyes,  longings  she  could  not 
understand  or  analyze  herself ;  she  led  him  on  to  talk 
of  his  plans,  and  he  even  told  her  of  some  wherein 
he  had  counted  on  her  companionship — how  he 
would  have  a  Japanese-American  house — a  home 
wherein  both  the  beauty  of  Japan  and  the  comfort 
of  America  would  be  combined;  and  of  the  trips 
they  would  take  to  Europe,  and  the  friends  they 
would  make.  He  used  the  word  "we"  always,  in 
speaking,  and  she  never  once  questioned  his  right 
to  do  so.  Often  she  herself  grew  so  interested  in  his 
plans  for  the  future  that  she  made  suggestions,  and 
they  laughed  with  light-hearted  joyousness  at  the 
prospect.  At  the  end  of  the  five  days  Takashima  had 
not  even  a  lingering  doubt  left. 

As  the  shores  of  his  home  came  into  view,  and  the 


AT  THE  JOURNEY'S  END. 


53 


passengers  were  all  clustered  on  deck  watching  the 
speck  of  land  in  the  offing  grow  larger  and  larger  as 
they  approached  it,  the  young  Japanese  placed  his 
hand  firmly  on  Cleo's — so  soft  and  slender — and 
said:  "Soon  we  will  reach  home  now — your  home 
and  mine." 

A  sudden  vague  fear  crept  into  the  girl's  heart. 
She  shivered  as  his  hand  touched  hers,  and  there 
was  a  frightened,  almost  hunted,  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Shall  I  have  my  answer  now?"  he  continued. 

Again  she  shivered.  "Wait  till  we  are  on  shore," 
she  pleaded,  "till  we  have  rested;  wait  five  more 
days — I  must  think — I — I " 

"Ah,  Miss  Cleo,  yes,  I  will  wait,"  he  said, 
gently.  "Surely,  I  can  afford  to  do  so.  It  is  after 
all  merely  the  formal  answer  I  will  ask  for.  These 
last  days  you  have  already  answered  me — with  your 
beautiful  eyes. ' ' 

"Tom,"  the  girl  said,  desperately,  as  the  passen- 
gers were  passing  from  the  boat  on  to  the  dock 
below,  and  her  cousin  was  tying  the  heavy  straps 
around  their  loose  baggage,  "Oh,  Tom — I  am  afraid 
now — I  am  afraid  of — of  Takashima. ' ' 

Tom's  usually  sympathetic  face  was  almost  stern. 
He  rose  stiffly  and  looked  at  the  girl  remorselessly. 

"I  warned  you,  Cleo,"  he  said;  "I  told  you  to  be 
careful.  You  ought  to  have  answered  him  directly 
five  days  ago,  when  he  spoke  to  you.  You  are  the 
greatest  moral  coward  I  know.  I  believe  you  could 
not  summon  pluck  enough  to  refuse  anybody. 
Don't  know  how  you  ever  did.  It  is  a  wonder  you 
are  not  engaged  to  a  dozen  at  once. ' ' 


54 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


; 


1    I 


!i 


■<l    si 

■i     S-' 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THOSE  QUEER  JAPANESE! 

Kyoto  is  by  far  the  most  picturesque  city  in 
Japan.  It  is  situated  between  two  mountains,  with 
a  beautiful  river  flowing  through  it.  It  is  con- 
nected with  Tokyo  by  rail,  but  the  traveling  accom- 
modations are  far  from  being  as  comfortable  or 
commodious  as  in  America;  in  fact,  there  are  no 
sleeping-cars  whatever,  so  that  it  is  often  matter  of 
complaint  among  visitors  that  they  are  not  as  com- 
fortable traveling  by  rail  as  they  might  be.  It  was 
in  Kyoto  that  Sinclair  and  most  of  the  Americans 
who  visited  Japan  lived.  Sinclair  kept  one  office  in 
Kyoto  and  another  in  Tokyo,  and  being  inclined  to 
shove  most  of  his  light  duties  on  to  his  secretary, 
went  back  and  forth  between  the  two  cities ;  in  fact, 
he  had  a  house  in  both  places.  Tokyo,  with  its 
immense  population  and  its  air  of  business  and 
activity,  is  yet  not  so  favored  by  foreigners,  nor  by 
the  better  class  Japanese,  as  a  place  of  residence  as 
is  Kyoto.  Indeed,  a  great  many  of  them  carry  on 
a  business  in  Tokyo  and  also  keep  a  house  in 
Kyoto.  Most  of  the  merchants  of  Tokyo,  however, 
prefer  to  live  in  one  of  the  charming  little  villages 
a  few  hours'  ride  by  train  from  Tokyo,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Hayama,  where  there  is  a  good  view  of  Fuji- 
Yama,  the  peerless  mountain.     And  it  was  almost 


lij 


THOSE  QUEER  JAPANESE! 


55 


under  the  shadow  of  this  mountain  that  Takashima 
Orito  and  Num^  had  played  together  as  children. 

The  Ballards  took  up  their  residence  for  the  time 
being  in  the  city  of  Tokyo,  at  an  American  hotel, 
where  most  of  the  other  passengers  who  had  arrived 
with  them  were  staying.  Arthur  Sinclair  had 
failed  to  meet  them  at  the  boat,  though  he  sent  in 
his  place  his  Japanese  secretary,  who  looked  after 
their  luggage  for  them,  hailed  jinrikishas,  and  saw 
them  comfortably  settled  at  the  hotel,  apologizing 
profusely  for  the  non-appearance  of  Sinclair,  and 
explaining  that  he  had  gone  up  to  Kyoto  the 
previous  day,  and  had  been  delayed  on  important 
business. 

When  they  were  alone  in  their  rooms  the  mother 
sank  in  a  chair,  complaining  bitterly  that  Sinclair 
had  failed  to  meet  them. 

"I  will  never  get  used  to  this — this  strange 
place,"  she  said,  with  her  chronic  dissatisfaction. 
"I  won't  be  able  to  stay  a  week  here.  How  could 
Arthur  Sinclair  have  acted  so  outrageously?  I  shall 
tell  him  just  how  I  feel  about  it." 

"Mother,"  Cleo  turned  on  her  almost  fiercely, 
'*you  will  say  nothing  to  him.  If  he  had  something 
more  important  to  attend  to — if  he  did  not  want  to 
come — we  do  not  want  him  to  put  himself  out  for 
us — we  do  not  care  if  he  does  not."  Her  voice 
reflected  her  mother's  bitterness,  however,  and 
belied  her  words. 

'*He  was  always  thoughtful,"  said  Tom,  laying 
his  hand  consolingly  on  his  aunt's  shoulder.  "Come 
now.  Aunt  Beth,  everything  looks  comfortable  here 


56 


MlSb  iSLMF  OP  JAPaN. 


u 


—and  I'm  sure  after  we  once  get  over  the  oddity  of 
our  surroundings  we  will  find  it  quite  interesting." 

"It  zs  interesting,  Tom,"  said  Cleo,  from  a  win- 
dow, "the  streets  are  so  funny  outside.  They  are 
narrow  as  anything,  and  there  are  signboards  every- 
where. ' ' 

Mrs.  Ballard  looked  helplessly  about  the  loom. 

"Tom,  w/iat  do  you  suppose  they  will  give  us  to 
eat?  I  have  heard  such  funny  tales  about  their 
queer  cooking — chicken  cooked  in  molasses,  and — 
and  raw  fish — and " 

"Mother,"  put  in  the  girl,  impatiently,  "this 
hotel  is  on  the  American  plan.  The  little  bell-boys 
and  servants,  of  course,  are  Japanese — but  every- 
thing will  be  as  much  like  what  we  have  at  home  as 
they  can  make  it. ' ' 

Both  the  mother  and  daughter  were  out  of 
patience  with  everything  and  were  tired,  the  mother 
being  almost  hysterical.  Tom  went  over  to  her  and 
tried  to  calm  her  down,  talking  in  his  easy,  consoling 
way  on  every  subject  that  would  take  her  mind  off 
Sinclair.  After  a  time  Mrs.  Ballard's  nervousness 
had  quieted  down,  and  she  rested,  her  maid  sitting 
beside  her  fanning  her  gently,  while  Tom  and  Cleo 
unpacked  what  luggage  they  had  had  in  their  state- 
rooms with  them,  their  other  trunks  not  having 
arrived.     The  girl  was  feeling  more  cheerful. 

"When  I  go  back  to  America,"  she  said,  "I 
believe  I'll  take  a  little  Japanese  maid  with  me. 
They  are  so  neat  and  amusing." 

Tom  looked  at  her  gravely.  ' '  I  thought  you  con- 
templated making  your  home  here?"  he  quizzed. 


THOSE  QUEER  JAPANESE! 


57 


"Perhaps  I  will,"  the  girl  said,  saucily,  "perhaps 
I  won't.  It  depends  on  whether  my  mind  changes 
itself." 

"Hum!" 

"Remember  Jenny  Davis,  Tom?" 

"Well,  I  guess  so; — never  saw  you  alone  when 
she  was  in  Washington. ' ' 

"Well,  she  brought  home  with  her  the  sweetest 
little  Japanese  maid  you  ever  saw.  She  used  to  be 
— a — a  geesa  girl  in  Tokyo,  and  the  people  she 
worked  for  were  horrid  to  her.  So  Jenny  paid  them 
some  money  and  they  let  her  bring — a — Fuka  with 
her  to  America,  Well,  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
her.  She  wasn't  bigger  than  that,  Tom,"  measur- 
ing with  her  hand,  "and  she  was  just  as  cute  as 
anything, — walks  on  her  heels,  and  smiles  at  you 
even  when  you  are  offended  with  her,  Jenny  says." 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Davis  now?"  Tom  asked. 
"Thought  I  heard  some  one  say  she  had  come  back 
here." 

"So  she  did.  She  is  somewhere  in  Japan  now. 
Last  time  I  heard  from  her  she  was  in  Kyoto.  I 
wrote  her,  care  of  Arthur  though,  because  she 
moves  around  so  much,  and  I  told  her  we  were 
coming.  I  half  expected  she  would  meet  us." 
After  thinking  a  moment  she  added,  "Tom,  do  j'^ou 
know,  there  was  not  a  single  American  to  meet  us? 
I  think  mamma  is  right  (though  I  won't  tell  her  so), 
and  that  Arthur  acted  abominably  in  not  meeting 
us.  It  doesn't  matter  what  business  he  had — he 
should  have  left  it.  He  might  at  least  have  sent — a 
— a    friend  to    meet    us,  instead    of   that    smooth 


58 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Japanese.  Mrs.  Davis  says  there  is  a  perfect  Amer- 
ican colony  here,  and  in  Yokohama  and  Kyoto — they 
are  scattered  everywhere,  and  Arthur  knows  them 
all,  and  most  of  them  know  we  are  to  be  married." 

"Sinclair's  hands,  I  guess,  are  pretty  full  most  of 
the  time.  Every  American  nearly  that  comes  here 
pounces  onto  him.  He  wrote  me  once  that  he  had  a 
different  party  to  dinner  nearly  every  day  at  the 
Consulate — when  he  is  in  Kyoto,  and  I  guess  that  is 
why  the  poor  chap  likes  to  run  down  here  where 
every  tourist  does  not  throw  himself  at  him.  Sin- 
clair never  was  a  good — a — ^business  man.  Don't 
believe  he  has  any  idea  of  the  responsibility  of  his 
work.  Believe  he'd  just  as  lief  throw  it  up,  any- 
how." 

But,  though  Tom  stood  up  for  his  friend,  even 
he  could  not  help  feeling  in  himself  that  the  girl 
was  justly  indignant. 


'11 


TAKASHIMA'S  HOME-COMING. 


59 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


TAKASHIMA'S  HOME-COMING. 


Takashima  had  left  the  Americans  at  the  dock. 
He  had  oflFered  the  Ballards  every  courtesy,  even 
inviting  them  to  go  with  him  to  his  home.  This, 
however,  they  refused,  and  as  it  had  been  so  long 
since  he  had  been  in  Japan  he  was  almost  as  much  a 
stranger  to  his  surroundings  as  they  were ;  so  he  left 
them  to  the  care  of  Sinclair's  secretary,  feeling  con- 
fident that  he  would  show  them  every  attention, — 
telling  them  that  he  would  call  on  them  the  next 
day.  He  realized  that  they  felt  a  trifle  strange,  and 
wanted,  in  his  generous,  gentle  way,  to  make  them 
feel  at  home  in  Japan.  Two  old  Japanese  gentle- 
men who  stood  on  the  dock,  peering  eagerly  among 
the  passengers  as  they  passed  down  the  gangway, 
now  paused  before  him.  Both  were  visibly  affected, 
and  the  one  who  called  his  name  so  gently  and 
proudly  trembled  while  he  did  so. 

"Orito,  my  son." 

"My  father,"  the  young  man"  answered,  speaking, 
impulsively,  in  pure  Japanese.  With  one  old  man 
holding  each  of  his  arms  he  moved  away.  Cleo 
looked  after  them,  her  beautiful  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"It  is  his  father,"  she  had  said.  "They  have  not 
seen  each  other  for  eight  years."  Her  voice  fal- 
tered a  trifle.  "The  other  one  must  be  her 
father" 


f 


a  : 


5o 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


AFTER  EIGHT  YEARS. 


■'A 


It  was  with  mingled  feelings  of  pleasure  and,  per- 
haps, pain  that  Takashima  Orito  saw  his  home  once 
more.  The  place  had  scarcely  changed  since  he  had 
left  it  eight  years  before.  It  seemed  to  him  but  a 
day  since  he  and  Num^  had  played  on  the  shores  of 
the  Hayama,  and  had  gathered  the  pebbles  and 
shells  on  the  beach.  He  remembered  how  Numd 
would  follow  him  round  wherever  he  went,  how 
implicitly  she  believed  in  him.  Surely,  if  he  lived 
to  be  a  hundred  years  old  never  would  such  confi- 
dence be  placed  in  him  again — the  sweet,  unques- 
tioning confidence  of  a  little  child.  After  dinner 
Orito  left  his  father  and  Omi  to  go  outside  the  house 
and  once  more  take  a  look  at  the  old  familiar  scenes 
of  his  boyhood;  once  more  to  see  Fuji-Yama,  the 
wonderful  mountain  that  he  had  'mown  from  his 
boyhood,  and  of  which  he  had  never  tired.  There 
it  stood  in  its  matchless  lonely  peace  and  splendor, 
its  lofty  peaks  meeting  the  rosy  beams  of  the  vivid 
sky,  snow-clad  and  majestic.  Ah!  the  same  weird 
influence,  the  same  inexplicable  feeling  it  had 
always  produced  in  him  had  come  back  now,  and 
filled  his  soul  with  an  ardent,  yearning  adoration. 
Every  nerve  in  the  young  man  bespoke  a  passionate 
artistic  temperament.     Many  a  time  when  in  Amer- 


AFTER  EIGHT  YEARS. 


6i 


ica,  wearied  with  studying  a  strange  people,  strange 
customs,  and  a  strange  God,  his  mind  had  reverted 
to  Fuji-Yama — Fuji-Yama,  the  mount  of  peace,  and 
in  his  heart  would  rise  an  uncontrollable  longing  to 
see  it  once  more,  for  it  is  said  that  no  one  who  is 
born  within  sight  of  Fuji-Yama  ever  forgets  it. 
Though  he  might  roam  all  the  world  over,  his  foot- 
steps inevitably  turn  back  to  this  spot.  Standing 
majestically  in  the  central  part  of  the  main  island, 
snow-clad  and  solitary,  surrounded  by  five  lakes,  it 
rises  to  the  sublime  altitude  of  12,490  feet.  It  is 
said  that  its  influence  is  almost  weird — that  those 
who  gaze  on  it  once  must  always  remember  it. 
They  are  struck  not  so  much  by  its  grandeur  as  by 
its  wonderful  simplicity  and  symmetry.  It  is  sug- 
gestive of  all  the  gentler  qualities ;  it  is  symbolic  of 
love,  peace,  and  restfulness. 

Orito  remained  outside  the  house  for  some  time, 
his  face  turned  in  mute  adoration  to  the  peerless 
mountain,  no  sound  escaping  his  lips.  When  his 
father  joined  him  he  said,  with  a  sigh:  "Father, 
how  came  I  ever  to  leave  my  home?" 

The  old  man  beamed  on  him,  and  leaned  against 
his  shoulder. 

"Ah,  my  son,  it  pleases  me  much  that  you  have 
found  no  spot  more  beautiful  than  your  home. 
Most  long  have  the  days  been  without  you.  Tell 
me  somewhat  of  your  life  in  America." 

"My  father,"  the  young  man  answered,  "the 
world  outside  my  home  is  turbulent  and  full  of  a 
restlessness  that  consumes  the  vitality  of  man  and 
robs  him  of  all  peace."     He  ppinted  towards  the 


u 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


f 
1^  I 


mountain:  "Here  is  rest,  peace — Nirvana,  rest 
from  the  pulse  of  the  wild  world. '  * 

The  old  man  looked  uneasy.  "But,  my  son, 
surely  you  do  not  regret  your  travel?" 

"No,  father,"  said  Orito.  "Life  is  too  short  ror 
regrets.  It  is  folly  to  regret  anything.  Her*^  in 
this  land,  where  all  is  so  beautiful,  we  sleep — per- 
haps a  delicious,  desirable  sleep;  but  though  there 
be  beauty  all  about  us,  all  that  the  heart  could 
desire,  the  foolish  heart  of  man  still  is  not  content. 
We  cannot  understand  this  restlessness  that  makes 
us  want  to  leave  the  better  things  of  life  ?nd  go  out 
into  the  world  of  sorrow,  to  leave  beauty  and  rest 
behind  us,  and  exchange  it  for  a  life  of  excitement, 
of  shams  and  unrealities." 

Old  Sachi  looked  frightened  at  his  son's  words. 
He  did  not  quite  comprehend  them,  however.  The 
son  seemed  to  perceive  this,  and  changed  the  sub- 
ject quickly. 

"Where  is  Num^,  my  father?  I  have  not  yet  seen 
her.     She  must  surely  be  a  young  lady  now. ' ' 

Once  more  the  old  man's  face  lighted  up  with 
pride  and  interest. 

"I  thought  you  would  be  tired  after  your  long 
voyage,  and  would  not  care  so  much  to  se^  '  e 
but  your  father.     Therefore,  wher!  sh  to 

visit  her  American  friends  her  f  .tev      er 

to  do  so."  He  smiled  at  his  son  ^ou  i  se.  ner 
to-morrow.  She  is  now  a  young  maid'  n,  and  you 
wUl  not  know  her  at  first." 

"No— perhaps  not,"  the  young  man  said,  sadly. 
* '  I  can  think  of  her  only  as  the  little  wild  plum  bios- 


AFTER  EIGHT  YEARS. 


63 


som  of  ten  years.     I  shall  not  care  for  her  as  well 

now  that  she  is  a—perhaps-polite  maiden  of  ei^ht- 
een. "  ** 

"You  should  rather  like  her  better,  now  that  she 
IS  a  beautiful  maiden  instead  of  a  mere  baby  for  it 
IS  the  nature  of  man  to  prefer  the  woman  to  the 
child. 

"Yes,  I  understand,  father,  but  it  is  so  many 
years  since  I  have  seen  a  Japanese  girl,  and  I  have 
grown  more  used  to  the  American  woman." 

A  shrewd  look  crept  into  the  old  man's  face 

"Omi  and  I  thought  of  that  long  ago,  and  for  that 
reason  we  encouraged  her  to  be  with  the  Americans 
greatly,  so  that  she  has  learned  to  speak  their 
tongue,  and  often  becomes  almost  as  one  of  them  " 

"But,  father,  I  would  not  wish  her  to  be  an  Amer- 
lean  lady.  She  could  not  be-you  cannot  make  a 
Japanese  girl  into  an  American  girl.  She  would  be 
more  charming  solely  as  a  Japanese  maid  " 


n 


64 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

NUM^. 

The  American  lady  with  whom  Numfe  was  staying 
was  the  Mrs.  Davis  of  whom  Cleo  Ballard  had 
spoken.  She  had  rented  one  of  the  houses  that 
eight  years  before  the  foreigners  had  lived  in. 
They  had  at  that  time  filled  the  house  with  Ameri- 
can furniture,  so  that  when  Mrs.  Davis  came  to  look 
at  it,  it  had  presented  so  familiar  and  homelike  an 
ippearance  that  she  had  rented  it  at  once.  She  had 
lived  there  for  some  months  now.  In  fact,  as  she 
was  popular  and  always  the  centre  of  gay  parties  of 
foreigners,  quite  a  small  colony  of  Americans  and 
English  people  had  settled  in  that  vicinity,  which 
was  within  easy  reach  of  Tokyo,  and,  indeed,  only  a 
day's  journey  from  Kyoto.  They  had  rented 
houses  and  land  from  Omi  and  Sachi,  who  cultivated 
them  constantly  because  of  their  son.  Mrs.  Davis' 
husband  was  a  large  silk  merchant  in  Tokyo,  and  they 
had  practically  made  their  home  in  Japan,  though 
they  often  took  trips  to  America  and  Europe. 

Ever  since  Orito  had  left  Japan  Nume  had  lived  a 
retired,  reserved  life.  Although  but  a  child  at  the 
time,  she  was  of  a  peculiarly  staunch  and  intense 
nature,  and  for  many  years  after  Orito  had  been 
gone,  she  clung  to  the  memory  of  the  happy  days 
she  had  spent  with  him,  and  looked  forward  con- 


NUAIE. 


65 


stantly  to  his  return.  "V/ith  the  usual  unquestioning 
content  of  a  Japanese  girl,  she  was  ready  to  marry 
whoever  her  father  chose  for  her,  so  long  as  he  was 
not  repugnant  to  her;  and  as  they  had  already 
decided  on  Orito,  the  girl  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  that  che  would  some  day  be  his  wife.  As 
she  had  only  pleasant  memories  of  him,  her  mar- 
riage was  looked  forward  to  almost  with  delight,  and 
until  the  day  before  Orito 's  return  there  had  not 
been  a  pang  of  fear  or  regret.  She  had  not  been 
thrown  into  the  society  of  young  men,  and  knew 
very  little  of  them.  Orito's  letters  to  her,  although 
formal  in  tone,  always  were  tender  and  kind,  and 
spoke  of  the  happy  days  they  had  spent  together, 
and  which  he  said  would  be  renewed  when  he  was 
once  more  in  Japan. 

When  the  Americans  had  settled  so  near  lier 
home,  the  girl  had  gone  out  curiously  among  them, 
studying  their  strange  manners  and  custcmis,  learn- 
ing to  speak  their  language,  and  often  even  dressing 
in  their  costume,  to  the  amusement  of  her  father, 
Sachi.  and  the  Americans.  They  had  sought  her 
out  in  the  beginning  because  of  her  extraordinary 
beauty  for,  living  on  her  father's  land,  they 
naturally  often  came  across  her  either  with  her 
father  or  roaming  alone  with  her  maid  in  the  fields. 
At  first  the  child  was  inclined  to  resent  any  over- 
tures on  their  part,  because  of  an  unaccountable 
jealousy  she  cherished  toward  them  ever  since  Orito 
had  gone  to  America.  But  after  a  time  her  better 
sense  had  triumphed,  and  soon  she  became  a  famil- 
iar figure  in  their  midst. 


66 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


It  is  true  that  most  of  these  foreigners  stayed  only 
a  short  time  there,  and  moved  around  constantly, 
but  as  fast  as  they  went  others  came,  and  the  girl 
soon  got  used  to  them.  Although  she  had  received 
the  best  education  possible  for  a  girl  in  Japan,  yet 
she  had  traveled  very  little,  her  father  taking  her 
once  in  a  while  on  a  flying  trip  to  Kyoto  and  Tokyo. 
But  her  knowledge  of  the  outside  world  was  gained 
entirely  through  her  acquaintance  with  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  often  she  sighed  for  a  larger  life  than  the 
one  she  had  known.  She  would  ask  her  father  con- 
stantly to  permit  her  to  go  away  on  trips  with  the 
Americans,  but  though  he  encouraged  her  always  to 
cultivate  them,  yet  he  never  would  permit  her  to  go 
away  with  them,  even  on  a  short  trip  to  Yokohama. 

Omi  was  perhaps  a  trifle  more  limited  and  nar- 
row than  Sachi,  and  more  regarded  the  etiquette 
of  his  class.  Sachi  had  always  been  inclined  to  take 
the  lead  in  most  things,  and  Omi  was  always  will- 
ing to  be  guided  by  him.  Thus  it  happened  that 
Omi  had  perhaps  as  much  love  for  Orito  as  his 
father  had,  and  even  thought  more  of  him  than  he 
did  of  Num^,  who  was  only  a  girl. 

Orito  and  Num^  were  the  only  children  either  of 
the  old  men  had  had,  and,  moreover,  both  of  their 
mothers  had  died  many  years  ago. 

When  Mrs.  Davis  had  settled  there  about  six 
months  before,  'she  had  brought  letters  with  her 
from  Takashima  Orito,  whom  she  had  met]  in 
America,  commending  her  to  the  hospitality  of  his 
father  and  Omi.  With  her  quick,  gay  manners,  her 
beautiful  and  odd  dresses,  her  frank  good-nature, 


r 


NUME. 


67 


!5he  dazzled  and  was  a  puzzle  always  to  the  old  men 
•and    to     Num^.      Moreover,   she    was    a    wealthy 
woman,  and  had  rented  the  most  exquisite  of  all  the 
houses  owned  by  Sachi.     She  took  a  great  liking  to 
Num^  almost  at  once,  and  the  girl  returned  it.     She 
would  walk  into  Omi's  house  in  the  most  insinuating 
manner  in  the  world,  captivate  the  old  man  with  her 
wit  and  grace,  and  carry  off  Nume  right  under  his 
nose,  even  though  he  had  told  her  of  his  resolve  to 
keep  his  daughter  in  seclusion  until  her  marriage. 
She  would  say  to  him  "Well,  now,  you  know,  Mr. 
Watanabe,    I    am    different.      I    knew    dear'  Mr. 
Takashima  so  well  in  America,  and  I  am  sure  he 
would  like  Nume  and  me  to  be  good  friends,  eh, 
Num^?"     And  when  she  was  alone  with  the  girl  and 
out  of  sight  of  the  old  man,  she  would  say,  with  a 
confident  shake  of  her  head:  "Just  wait,  m'y  dear; 
soon  I'll  have  things  so  that  you  can  come  and  go  as 
you  like." 

She  did  not  speak  vainly.  Soon  she  had  taken  the 
two  old  men  by  storm,  so  that  she  could  have 
twisted  them  round  her  own  shrewd  little  finger. 


■■■■I 


68 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


■I 


i  ; 
i  i 


<  <: 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN  AMERICAN  CLASSIC. 

The  day  before  Orito  was  to  arrive  home  Num^ 
had  crossed  the  rice  fields  and  gone  to  the  American 
lady's  house, 

"I  have  felt  so  nerviss,"  she  said,  with  her  pretty 
broken  English,  "that  I  come  stay  with  you,  Mrs. 
Davees. " 

"What  are  you  nervous  about,  dear?"  Mrs.  Davis 
asked,  kissing  the  girl's  pretty,  troubled  face. 

Num^  slipped  down  from  the  chair  Mrs.  Davis  had 
placed  for  her,  and  sat  on  the  floor  instead,  restino- 
her  head  against  the  older  woman's  knee, 

"Orito  will  return  to-morrow,"  she  said,  simply. 
"I  am  so  joyed  I  am  nerviss," 

The  American  lady's  sweet  blue  eyes  were  moist. 

"Do  you  love  him,  sweetheart?" 

The  girl  raised  wondering  eyes  to  her. 

"Luf?  Thad  is  so  funny  word — Ess — I  luf,"  she 
said. 

'And  you  have  not  seen  him  for  eight  years? 
And  you  wer  only  ten  years  old  when  you  last  saw 
him?  My  dear,  1  don't  understand — I  can't 
believe  it. ' ' 

The  girl  raised  a  wistful  face  to  her. 

"Num^  nod  unerstan',  too,"  she  said. 

"Of  course  you  don't,  dear.     Num^,  I  wish  your 


AN  AMERICAN  CLASSIC. 


6g 


father  would  let  me  take  you  away  for  a  time.  It  is 
a  shame  to  tie  you  down  already,  before  you  have 
had  a  chance  to  see  anything  or  any  one,  hardly. 
You  aren't  a  bit  like  most  Japanese  girls.  I  don't 
believe  you  realize  how  pretty — how  very,  very  lovely 
and  dainty  and  sweet  you  are.  Sometimes  when  I 
look  at  your  face  I  can't  realize  you  are  a  Japanese 
girl.     You  are  so  pretty." 

"Bud  the  Japanese  girl  be  pretty,"  Num^  said, 
with  dignity;  "pretty  more  than  Americazan  girl," 
she  added,  defiantly. 

Mrs.  Davis  laughed.  "Yes,  they  are — I  suppose, 
some  of  them,  but  then  an  American  can't  always 
understand  their  sijf/e  of  beauty,  dear.  You  are 
different.  Your  face  is  lovely — it  is  a  flower — a 
bright  tropical  flower.  No!  It  is  too  delicate  for 
a  tropical  flower — it  is  like  your  name — you  are 
a  wild  plum  blossom.  Sometimes  I  am  puzzled 
to  know  li'/ien  you  look  best — in  the  sweet,  soft 
kimona  or — or  in  a  regular  stylish  American  gown ; 
then  I  couldn't  tell  you  were  anything  but  an 
American  girl ; — no,  not  an  American  girl — you  are 
too  pretty  even  for  that — you  are  individual — just 
yourself,  Nume." 

"The  Americazan  lady  always  flatter, "the  girl 
said,  rising  to  her  feet,  her  face  flushed  and  troubled. 
"Japanese  girl  flatter  too;  Japanese  girl  tell  you  she 
thing'  you  vaery  pritty — but  she  nod  mean.  Tha's 
only  for  polite.  Thad  you  thing  me  pretty — tha's 
polite." 

This  speech  provoked  a  hearty  laugh  from  a  gentle- 
man reading  a  batch  of  letters  at  a  small  table. 


i.'^ 


mmm 


70 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


I 


"There's  a  lesson  for  you,  Jenny.  She  can't  jolly 
you,  eh,  Num^?" 

"Num^  nod  unerstan'  to  jolly,"  the  girl  answered. 

"Come  here,  Num^,  and  I'll  tell  you,"  he  called 
across  to  her.  She  went  over  to  his  side,  her  little 
serious  face  watching  him  questioningly. 

"A  jollier  is  an  American  classical  word,  Num^ — 
a  jollier  is  one  who  jollies  you. " 

"Num^  Wi?^ unerstan',  still." 

Mrs.  Davis  drew  Num^  away  from  him. 

"Leave  her  alone,  Walter,"  she  said,  reprovingly; 
and  then  to  the  girl:  "Nume,  you  must  not  believe 
a  thing  he  tells  you. ' ' 

Walter  Davis  laid  his  paper-cutter  down. 

"Madam,  are  you  teaching  that  young  girl  to  lose 
faith  in  mankind  already?" 

Mrs.  Davis  answered  by  placing  her  little  hand 
over  his  mouth  and  looking  at  him  with  her  pretty 
blue  eyes  so  full  of  reproach  that  he  pulled  her  down 
beside  him.  They  had  been  married  only  a  little 
over  eighteen  months. 

"Here  is  the  literal  translation  of  the  word 
'jolly,'  "  he  said  to  Num^.  "Now,  I  want  Mrs. 
Davis  to  be  in  a  good  humor,  so  I  squeeze  her  up 
and  tell  her  she  is  the  darlingest  little  woman  in  the 
world." 

Still  the  girl's  face  was  troubled.  She  looked  at 
the  husband  and  wife  a  moment;  then  she  said, 
very  shyly:  "Num^  lig'  to  jolly,  too." 

Mrs.  Davis  pushed  her  husband's  arm  away. 

"Don't  use  that  word — it  is  ugly.  Walter  is  full 
of  slang. " 


i* 


!      ! 


^J 


AN  AMERICAN  CLASSIC. 


7' 


"Ess,  bud,"  she  persisted,  ''if  thad  the  'jolly* 
means  to  be  /«/,  then  I  lig'  thad  liddle  word." 

"But  you  must  not  use  the  word,  dear." 

When  Num^  had  gone  to  bed  for  the  night,  and 
husband  and  wife  were  alone  together,  Mrs.  Davis 
reproached  her  husband. 

"Really,  Walter,  I  wish  you  would  not  teach  that 
poor  little  thing  such — a — a — wicked  things — or — or 
that  awful  slang.  First  thing  we  know  she  will  be 
using  it  seriously.  You  have  no  idea  how  quickly 
she  catches  on  to  the  smallest  new  word,  and  she 
will  ask  more  questions  about  it,  if  it  catches  her 
fancy,  than  a  child  of  three. ' ' 

"That's  her  charm,  my  dear,"  the  man  answered. 
"Ought  to  encourage  it,  Jen." 

"She  does  not  need  that  kind  of  a  charm.  She  is 
a  charm  all  by  herself.  Every  movement  she  makes 
is  charming,  every  halting  word, — her  own  strange, 
sweet  beauty.  She  is  irresistible,  Walter.  You 
remember  that  Englishman  who  stayed  over  at  the 
Cranstons'?  Well,  you  know  what  a  connoisseur  of 
beauty  every  one  thought  him.  You  ought  to  have 
heard  him  after  he  had  seen  Num^.  He  was 
simply  wild  about  her — called  her  a  dainty  piece  of 
Dresden  china — a  rose  and  lily  and  cherry  blossom 
in  one." 

"Did  he  tell  Nume  so?" 

' ' No,  he  didn't  get  the  chance.  He  made  the  awful 
blunder  of  telling  her  father  so.  He  (Mr.  Wata- 
nabe)  disagreed  very  politely  with  him — said  his 
daughter  was  augustly  homely,  and  wouldn't  let  the 
poor  little  thing  out  of  his  sight  for  a  month  aftei. 


7a 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


I 


Really,  Walter,  you  needn't  chuckle  over  it, — for 
Num^  suffered  dreadfully  about  it.  If  you  won't 
laugh  I'll  tell  you  what  she  said  to  me  afterwards, 
though  I  believe  it  was  you,  yourself,  you  wretch, 
who  taught  her  the  words.  I  told  her  how  sorry  I 
was  that  the  Englishman  had  been  so  stupid ;  because 
she  had  told  us  never  to  praise  her  to  her  father — and 
at  any  rate  not  to  let  any  gentleman  do  so.  Well,  I 
half  apologized  to  her,  because,  you  know,  I  had  taken 
him  to  their  house,  and  she  said,  'Nume  not  lig* 
Egirisu'  (Englishman) — 'he  cot-tam. '  I  know  she 
did  not  know  what  the  word  meant,  poor  little 
thing,  and  I  spent  half  a  day  explaining  to  her 
ivhy  it  was  not  proper  to  use  such  an  expression. 
Yes,  you  can  laugh — you  wicked  thing — but  really, 
Walter,  I  won't  let  that  child  listen  to  you  any 
longer. ' ' 

Mrs.  Davis  left  her  husband  almost  in  convulsions 
over  this,  and  stole  on  tiptoe  to  the  girl's  room. 
She  was  sleeping  without  a  pillow  under  her  head. 
Beside  her  on  the  bed  was  a  small  English-Japanese 
dictionary.  Mrs.  Davis  picked  it  up  and  glanced  at 
a  page  which  was  turned  over.  It  was  a  page  of  the 
letter  J.  Towards  the  bottom  of  the  page  was  the 
word  "jolly,"  with  the  interpretation,  "to  be  merry 
—gay." 

Her  husband's  definition  had  been  unsatisfactory 
to  Num^,  and  she  had  looked  it  up  in  her  little 
dictionary. 


"■'. . 


}h 


f'' 


"STILL  A  CHILD." 


73 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


"STILL  A  CHILD." 


The  next  day  Num^  seemed  strangely  loath  to 
return  home.  For  eight  long  years  the  girl  had 
thought  almost  constantly  of  Orito  and  [their  mar 
riage  which  had  always  seemed  so  far  away.  Now 
that  he  had  come  home,  and  the  marriage  seemed 
but  a  matter  of  a  few  weeks,  she  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  fear  and  dread  of  she  knew  not  what.  Long 
after  she  had  finished  breakfast  she  still  lingered 
with  the  Davises,  and  though  once  or  twice  she  had 
gone  restlessly  to  the  door  and  looked  out  across  the 
fields  toward  where  her  own  home  was,  she  seemed 
in  no  hurry  to  leave.  Finally  Mrs.  Davis  had 
spoken  to  her,  and  asked  if  she  did  not  think  they 
would  be  expecting  her.  Nume  clung  to  the  Amer- 
ican lady's  hands  with  a  sudden  terror. 

"Num^  is  .y/^7/ nerviss, "  she  said. 

"Shall  I  go  back  with  you,  dear?" 

' '  No ;  let  me  stay  with  you. ' ' 

About  eleven  in  the  morning,  however,  Orito 
walked  through  the  rice  fields  and  came  himself  to 
bring  her  home.  Mrs.  Davis  saw  him  alone  first, 
and  after  they  had  exchanged  greetings  and  talked 
for  a  time  of  their  mutual  friends  in  America,  she 
told  him  of  the  girl's  agitation  and  how,  at  the  last 
moment,  she  had  broken  down.     The  young  man 


'^ 


74 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


appeared  to  be  very  much  concerned,  and  begged 
Mrs.  Davis  to  tell  Niirn^  that  she  had  nothing  what- 
ever to  fear  from  meeting  him.  So  Mrs.  Davis 
went  into  the  next  room  to  fetch  Num^.  She  put 
her  arm  round  the  girl  and  drew  her  gently  into  the 
room  where  Orito  was.  Nume  did  not  raise  her 
eyes  to  look  at  him.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  looked 
at  her  very  keenly,  taking  note  of  every  sv/eet  out- 
line of  her  face  and  form.  To  please  his  father  he 
had  resumed  the  Japanese  costume,  and  now, 
dressed  in  his  hakama,  he  looked  every  inch  a 
Japanese  gentleman,  and  should  not  have  alarmed 
Nume  so  seriously.  Yet  his  manners  had  lost  some 
of  the  old  Japanese  polish,  and  as  he  crossed  to  her 
side  and  lifted  her  little  hand  to  his  lips,  it  seemed 
more  the  act  of  a  foreigner  than  that  of  a  Japanese. 

At  the  light  touch  of  his  lips  on  her  hand  Nume's 
confidence  returned.  She  smiled,  shyly,  at  him. 
Orito  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You  are  not  much  changed,  Num^,"  he  said. 
"You  look  just  as  I  expected  you  would — and — and 
you  are  still  a  child." 

Num^  opened  her  little  fan,  and  then  closed  it 
with  a  swing. 

"And  you,  I  thing  you  so  changed  that  you  must 
be  Americazan,"  she  said,  shyly. 

They  sat  and  talked  very  politely  to  each  other  for 
some  time,  neither  of  them  alluding  to  their  pro- 
posed marriage ;  in  fact,  both  of  them  seemed  anx- 
ious to  steer  away  from  the  subject  altogether. 
Orito  addressed  her  in  Japanese,  but  she,  with  a 
strange  wish  to  show  off  to  him  her  pitifully  limited 


STILL  A  CHILD. 


75 


knowledge    of     the    language    of    which    she    was 
extremely  proud,  answered  him  in  English. 

Mrs.  Davis  drew  Numb  into  the  next  room,  before 
she  left,  and  raising  her  little  flushed  face,  looked 
down  into  her  eyes  as  though  she  would  fain  have 
discovered  what  was  going  on  in  her  little  heart. 

"Are  you  disappointed,  dear?" 

• '  No ;  vtt?—l  am  vaery  joyous, ' '  the  girl  answered, 
candidly. 


i  I  ' 


76 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 
THE  MEETING. 

How  different  was  the  meeting  between  Cleo 
Ballard  and  Arthur  Sinclair !  He  had  traveled  over 
night  from  Kyoto,  and  because  there  were  no  sleep- 
ing accommodations  on  the  train  he  had  passed  a 
very  uncomfortable  night.  Consequently,  when  he 
arrived  in  Tokyo  the  next  morning  he  was  in  any- 
thing but  a  happy  frame  of  mind.  He  had  gone 
directly  to  the  hotel,  and  had  followed  his  card  to  the 
Ballards'  suite  of  rooms.  Mrs.  Ballard  was  ill,  us 
usual.  Tom  had  gone  out,  and  Cleo  was  waiting 
alone  for  him.  She  had  slept  very  little  through 
the  night,  and  there  were  dark  shadows  under  her 
eyes.  She  had  stayed  awake  thinking  of  vSinclair, 
and  of  his  unkindness  in  failing  to  meet  them.  One 
moment  she  thought  of  him  bitterly,  and  of  his 
seeming  indifference  to  her,  the  next  her  mind  was 
thrilled  with  the  wonder  and  tenderness  of  her  love, 
which  lost  sight  of  his  every  fault.  And  now  his 
little  card  lay  in  her  hand,  and  her  heart  was  beat- 
ing to  suffocation,  for  the  footsteps  that  she  knew  so 
vvell,  the  tall,  athletic  figure,  and  the  deep  voice  she 
had  learned  to  adore.  She  had  tried  to  steel  herself 
for  this  meeting,  telling  herself  that  she  ought  to 
punish  him  for  failing  to  meet  her,  but  as  his  tall  fig- 
ure loomed  up  beside  her  she  forgot  everything  save 
that  she  loved  him — loved  him  better  than  all  else  on 
earth,  that  she  had  come  thousands  of  miles  to  be 


THE  MEETING. 


77 


with  him,  and  that  she  would  never  leave  him  again. 
For  a  moment  neither  of  them  spoke.  They  looked 
at  each  other,  the  one  with  hungry,  yearning  love, 
the  other  with  keen  scrutiny,  together  with  an  hon- 
est endeavor  to  call  up  some  of  the  old  passion  he 
had  once  had  for  her. 

The  girl's  voice  was  almost  frantic: — 

"Why  don't  you  speak  to  me,  Arthur; — have  you 
ceased  to — to  love  me?" 

"Why  of — of  course  not,  Cleo." 

She  went  close  to  him  and  put  her  hands  on  his 
shoulder,  looking  into  his  fine,  fair  face  with 
beseeching,  beautiful  eyes.  What  man  could  have 
resisted  her,  whether  he  loved  her  or  not?  Sin- 
clair's arms  closed  about  her,  and  somewhat  of  the 
old  passion  did  return  as  he  kissed  her,  and  held  her 
there.  But  she  had  broken  down,  and  was  sobbing 
pitifully,  hysterically,  in  his  arms. 

"Why,  Cleo,  what  is  the  matter,  dear?" 

He  drew  her  to  a  small  lounge  and  sat  down  with 
her,  putting  his  arm  affectionately  about  her,  and 
drawing  her  close  to  him. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  sobbed;  "but  I— I— Oh, 
Arthur,  I  thought  all  sorts  of  awful  things  about 
you.  That  you — that  you  did  not  love  me — that  you 
did  not  want  me  to  come — and — and — but  I  know  it 
is  not  true,  now — and  you  will  forgive  me?" 

She  waited  for  his  denial,  almost  longing  to  hear 
him  reprove  her  because  her  fears  were  unfounded. 
Instead,  he  merely  kissed  her,  saying  she  was  a 
foolish  little  girl. 

After  Cleo  had  quieted  down  a  little  she  began  to 


I    , 


■:  ■  ( 


IN'; 


i  .: 


>8 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


tell  him  of  different  home  matters  which  she 
thought  would  interest  him ;  but  after  listening  for 
a  while  to  his  monosyllabic  answers  she  stopped 
talking  and  turned  her  head  away  with  the  old  pique 
and  distrust.  The  distrust  or  pain  of  one  we  love 
very  dearly  cuts  like  a  knife  and  wrings  the  heart, 
but  where  we  do  not  love  it  irritates.  It  had  always 
been  so  with  Sinclair.  When,  during  their  engage- 
ment in  America,  the  girl  had  shown  resentment  or 
anger  against  him  for  any  cause,  it  had  always  had 
the  effect  of  making  him  nervous,  sometimes  almost 
imkind.  On  the  other  hand,  when  she  had  put  her 
entire  trust  in  him,  believed  in  and  loved  him 
unquestioningly,  he  seldom  could  find  the  heart  to 
undeceive  her.  Now,  as  he  looked  at  her  pained, 
averted  face,  he  felt  only  a  vague  weariness,  almost 
a  dislike  for  her.  There  was  a  touch  of  impatience 
in  his  voice:  "What  is  the  matter  now,  Cleo?" 

"Nothing,"  the  girl  answered,  proudly.  "Only  I 
thought  perhapr-  you'd  rather  not  hear  me  talk. 
You  do  not  answer  wl  m  I  ask  you  anything,  and  I 
don't  think  you  even  hear  what  I  say." 

"Don't  let  us  quarrel  already,  Cleo." 

The  girl  melted.  "No!"  she  said;  and  her  feel- 
ings choked  her. 

"How  is  your  mother?"  he  asked,  mechanically. 

She  rose  from  beside  him.  "Come  and  see 
mother,  Arthur.  She  is  not  at  all  well,  and  was 
quite  put  out  about  your  not  meeting  us. ' ' 

They  passed  into  the  mother's  room  together,  and 
Sinclair  was  soon  forced  to  listen  to  the  querulous 
reproaches  of  the  invalid. 


I  ^ 


THE  MEETING. 


79 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


CONFIDENCES. 

A  few  days  later  the  Davises,  together  with  sev- 
eral other  Americans,  swooped  down,  en  masse,  on 
Cleo,  and  she  soon  found  herself  surrounded  by  old 
acquaintances  and  friends.  Mrs.  Davis  had  heard 
of  her  arrival  from  Takashima,  and  had  come  to  her 
at  once.  The  two  friends  had  so  much  to  say  to 
each  other  that  Cleo  was  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind. 
Sinclair  had  spent  the  former  day  entirely  with  her, 
and  had  been  as  tender  and  thoughtful  as  of  old. 
After  the  first  constraint  had  worn  off  and  they  had 
grown  more  used  to  each  other,  and  the  man  had 
settled  the  matter  with  himself  that  she  was  the 
woman  with  whom  he  Wi.ii  to  spend  the  rest  of  his 
life,  he  had  called  up  all  the  gentleness  and  tender- 
ness he  could  summon.  If  it  was  a  poor  substitute 
for  love,  it  was,  nevertheless,  more  welcome  to  the 
hungry  heart  of  the  girl  than  the  indifference  she 
had  fancied  she  had  detected,  and  v/hich  she  now 
told  herself  was  imaginary. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Davis,  "you  must  come  and 
spend  a  few  days  with  me  at  my  house.  I  have 
such  a  pretty  place — quite  a  little  way  from  the  city, 
and  in  the  most  charming  spot  imaginable.  The 
house  is  large  encnigh,  almost  to  be  one  of  our  own. 
I  had  wings   built  onto  it  after  I  had  been  there 


8o 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Hi 


awhile,  and  really,  it  is  so  much  more  comfortable 
and  homelike  than  the  hotel. " 

"Indeed,  I  will  come,"  Cleo  answered.  "Jenny 
— I  want  to  see  everything  there  is  to  see  here.  You 
know  Arthur  likes  the  country,  and  has  an  idea  he'd 
like  to  settle  here  altogether.  He  says,  however,  it 
depends  on  me — and  I  want  to  see  lots  of  the  place 
before  I  decide.  I  do  hope  I  will  like  it,  for  his 
sake." 

"You  certainly  will  get  to  like  it." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  afraid  I  shall  get  lonely  for  Amer- 
ica and  Americans. ' ' 

"No,  you  won't,  Cleo,  because  there  are  scores  of 
Americans  here,  to  say  nothing  of  tourists  from  all 
over  Europe.  In  fact,  I  intend  giving  a  big  party 
in  your  honor,  my  dear.  We  haven't  had  one  here 
for — oh,  for  ages!  We  could  invite  all  the  Japanese 
we  know,  and  all  the  Americans  and  English  worth 
knowmg. ' ' 

So  the  two  friends  chatted  on,  turning  from  one 
su!:ject  to  another.  At  one  time  they  had  been 
almost  inseparable,  and  confided  in  each  other  on  all 
subjects.  Hence,  it  was  not  surprising  that  Mrs. 
Davis,  with  characteristic  familiari  ^  and  bon- 
camaraderie,  should  dash  into  the  subject  of  Cleo's 
marriage. 

"When  is  It  to  be,  my  dear?"  she  asked.  "Sin- 
clair is  a  splendid  catch.  Every  one  thinks  worlds 
of  him  here,  and — well,  he  is  charming  as  far  as  his 
own  personality  goes. ' ' 

Cleo  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  she  said, 
abruptly.    "Jenny,  sometimes  T   fear  that  Arthur 


CONFIDENCES. 


8i 


does  not  actually  love  me.  I  do  not  know  why  I 
should  think  so.  He  is  always  so  kind  to  me.  I 
suppose  I  am  foolish." 

"Of  course  you  are.  Why,  Cleo,  it  would  be — a 
— a  perfect  tragedy  if  he  did  not — it  would  be 
dreadful." 

The  girl  sighed.  Her  words  were  halting,  for  she 
hesitated  to  ask  even  her  closest  friend  such  a  ques- 
tion: "Does  he — has  he  paid  any  one  here  much 
— a — attention?" 

"No,  indeed.  He  doesn't  like  Japanese  women 
much — he  told  me  so  himself.  Says  they  are  all 
alike.     That  they  haven't  any  heart." 

"Is  it  true?" 

"Well,  dear,  I  don't  know.  It  is  not  true  of  all  of 
them,  at  any  rate.  There  is  one  girl  I  know  who  is 
the  dearest,  best-hearted  little  thing  in  the  world. 
Cleo,  she  is  the  sweetest  thing  you  ever  saw.  I 
won't  attempt  to  describe  her  to  you,  because  I  am 
not  a  poet,  and  it  would  take  a  poet  to  describe 
Nume." 

"Nume?" 

"Yes — Mr.  Takashima's  little  sweetheart,  you 
know.     Ever  heard  him  speak  of  her?" 

Cleo  Ballard  had  become  suddenly  very  still  and 
quiet.  The  other  woman  rattled  on,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer. 

"She  has  waited  for  him  eight  years,  and — and  I 
actually  believe  she  still  loves  him.  She  seems  to 
take  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  she  loves  him, 
and  doesn't  see  anything  strange  at  all  in  her  doing 
so,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  just  a  little  girl 


■  ii 


.   !      1 


{.  ! 


82 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


when  he  went  away."  She  paused  a  moment,  smil- 
ing thoughtfully.  "Really,  Cleo,  it  is  the  prettiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  see  them  together.  He  is 
rather  stiff  and  formal,  but  just  as  gentle  and  polite 
as  anything,  and  she,  poor  little  creature,  thinks  he 
is  the  finest  thing  alive." 

Cleo  Ballard  caught  her  breath  with  a  sudden 
pain.  She  hkd  grown  quite  white.  "Jenny,  don't 
let's  talk  of — of  the  Japanese  now.  I — I — don't  care 
for  them  much." 

"Don't  care  for  them!  Why,  you  tnust  get  over 
any  feeling  like  that  if  you  intend  living  here. 
However,  even  if  you  dislike  every  Japanese  in 
Japan,  you'd  change  your  mind,  perhaps,  after  you 
knew  Nume.  You  really  ought  to  see  her — she — why, 
my  dear,  what  is  the  matter?   You  look  quite  faint." 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing,  dear;  only  don't  talk  about 
this — this  girl — really,  I — I  feel  as  though  I  shouldn't 
like  her,  and  I  am  sure  she  won't  like  me." 

"Oh,  come  now;  you're  not  well,  that's  all. 
Here,  sit  down.     You  are  tired  after  the  long  trip.  * ' 

She  left  the  girl's  side  to  go  over  to  Tom  and 
Sinclair,  who  were  talking  over  old  college  days. 
Cleo  heard  her  praising  her  new  prot€g6.  Sii>clair 
looked  a  trifle  bored,  though  Tom  was  interestea, 

"Yes,  they  are  all  pretty,  more  or  less,"  Sinclair 
said,  languidly;  "but  the  deuce  is,  they  are  too 
much  alike." 

"Well,  Numb  is  different.  Really,  Mr.  Sinclair, 
I  am  surprised  you  have  not  met  her.  But  you  will 
all  see  her  at  my  party.  You  know  we're  going  to 
have  one  for  Cleo  at  my  house, ' '  she  added. 


lii 


SINCLAIR'S  INDIFFERENCE. 


83 


CHAPTER  XX. 


SINCLAIR'S   INDIFFERENCE. 

When  Mrs.  Davis  had  said  Sinclair  did  not  care 
for  Japanese  women  she  had  merely  spoken  the 
truth.  With  the  unreasoning  prejudice  of  a 
westerner,  he  had  taken  a  dislike  to  them,  hardly 
knowing  himself  why  he  did  so.  Perhaps  one  of  the 
reasons  lay  in  the  fact  that  when  he  had  come  to 
Japan  he  had  been  too  acutely  aware  of  his  engage- 
ment, and  that  his  wife  would  likely  make  ber  home 
there  in  Japan.  For  this  reason  he  avoided  the 
distractions  that  the  tea-houses  offered  to  most  for- 
eigners, going  there  only  occasionally  with  parties 
of  friends;  but,  unlike  most  western  men,  who 
generally  consider  it  their  privilege  when  in  Japan 
to  be  as  lawless  as  they  desire,  he  had  got  into  no 
entanglements  whatever.  That  he  had  been  called 
upon  constantly,  as  consul,  to  help  various  Ameri- 
cans out  of  such  scrapes  with  Japanese  women,  had 
made  him  more  prejudiced  against  them. 

On  the  night  of  Mrs.  Davis'  party,  he  stood  in  a 
doorway  looking  on  at  the  gayly  mixed  throng. 
Here  were  Americans,  English,  French,  Germans, 
and  a  good  sprinkling  of  the  better  class  Japanese. 
Mrs.  Davis'  house  was  entirely  surrounded  by  bal- 
conies, which  she  had  had  specially  built  in  American 
fashion,  and  the  guests  wandered  in  and  out  of  the 


. 


; 


P 


84 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


ball-room  on  to  these  balconies,  or  down  into  the 
gayly  lighted  garden;  under  the  shadows  of  the 
trees,  illumined,  in  spots  only,  by  the  flaring  light 
of  hundreds  of  Japanese  lanterns,  scattered  like 
twinkling  swinging  lamps  all  through  the  gardens, 
and  on  the  lawn.  Cleo  Ballard  was  looking  very 
beautiful;  and  because  she  was  undoubtedly  the 
prettiest  woman  in  the  room  she  was  surrounded  the 
entire  evening.  Sinclair  had  once  told  her  laugh- 
ingly that  he  gave  her  carte  blanche  to  flirt  all  she 
desired.  In  his  secret  heart,  like  most  men,  he  was 
opposed  to  this  pastime  (for  women).  Not  that  he 
was  entirely  free  from  it  himself.  By  no  means ; 
but  sometimes  the  ring  of  falsity  and  untruth  in  it 
all  struck  the  finer  sense  of  the  man.  Perhaps  he 
was  a  trifle  bored  that  night.  He  watched  wearily 
the  dancers  passing  back  and  forth,  the  filmy  laces 
and  beautiful  summer  gowns;  and  he  sighed. 
Somehow,  he  was  not  a  part  of  the  scene,  for  with 
the  peculiarity  of  a  traveler,  Sinclair  detested  any- 
thing smacking  of  conventionality,  and  most  parties 
(in  society)  are  formal  to  a  great  degree — at  least  on 
the  surface.  Quite  late  in  the  evening  Mrs.  Davis, 
who  had  disappeared  for  a  time  from  the  ball-room, 
returned,  bringing  with  her  a  young  girl.  Sinclair 
could  not  see  her  face  at  first,  because  her  head  was 
turned  from  him.  She  was  dressed  very  simply  in  a 
soft  white  gown,  cut  low  at  the  neck,  the  sleeves 
short  to  the  elbows.  She  wore  no  jewels  whatever, 
but  in  the  mass  of  dense  black  hair,  braided  care- 
lessly and  coiled  just  above  the  nape  of  her  neck, 
were  a  few  red  roses.      Something  in  the  girlish 


J^ldi^ 


SINCLAIR'S  INDIFFERENCE. 


«s 


poise  of  the  figure,  the  slim,  unstudied  grace  of  the 
neck,  and  rounded  arms,  caused  Sinclair  to  move 
deliberately  from  his  position  by  the  door,  and  pass 
in  front  of  her.  Then  he  saw  her  face.  There  was 
something  piteous  in  the  girl's  expression.  He 
could  not  have  told  what  there  was  in  her  face  that 
struck  him  so  with  the  peculiarity  of  its  beauty. 
Her  nationality  puzzled  him.  As  the  guests  began 
to  crowd  about  her,  the  girl  lost  her  repose  of  man- 
ner. She  looked  frightened  and  troubled.  With  a 
few  quick  strides,  Sinclair  was  beside  Mrs.  Davis, 
waiting  to  be  introduced.  Almost  as  in  a  dream  he 
heard  his  hostess  say,  half  jokingly: 

"Nume,  I  am  going  to  introduce  you  to  a — a  hater 
of  Japanese  woman — he  is  our  consul,  Mr.  Sinclair. 
You  7nust  cure  him,  my  dear, ' '  she  added ;  and  then 
smiling  at  Sinclair  she  said:  "Arthur,  this  is  Nume, 
Miss  Watanabe,  of  whom  I  told  you. ' ' 

The  girl  raised  her  little  oval  face,  and  looked 
very  seriously  at  him.  She  held  her  hand  out ;  she 
had  learned  from  the  Americans  the  habit  of  shak- 
ing hands.  Sinclair  felt  a  strange,  indescribable 
sensation  as  her  little  hand  rested  in  his ;  it  was  as 
if  he  held  in  his  hand  a  little  trembling,  frightened 
wild  bird. 


I 


86 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


"ME?    I   LIG'  YOU." 


For  a  moment  Sinclair  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say  to 
Niime,  and  as  she  had  not  spoken  he  did  not  know 
whether  she  understood  the  English  language  or 
must  be  addressed  in  Japanese. 

"Will  you  not  let  me  get  you  a  seat  somewhere 
where  there  is  not  such  a  crowd?"  he  asked,  speak- 
ing in  English. 

"Ess,"  she  answered,  looking  almost  helplessly  at 
him,  as  Mrs.  Davis  came  towards  them  with  a  fresh 
company  of  Americans,  all  eager  to  meet  her. 
Nume  belonged  to  the  Kazoku  order  of  Japanese 
(the  nobles),  the  most  exclusive  class  in  Japan. 
They  lived,  as  a  rule,  in  the  Province  of  Kyushu, 
and  their  women  were  supposed  to  be  extremely 
beautiful,  and  kept  in  great  seclusion,  as  the 
daughters  of  nobles  usually  are.  Nume's  father, 
however,  had  gone  into  business  in  Tokyo,  and 
later  had  become  a  large  land-owner  there,  so 
that  the  girl  had  mingled  very  little  with  her  own 
class. 

"I  am  going  to  take  Miss  Watanabe  somewhere 
where  she  can  breathe, ' '  Sinclair  said  to  Mrs.  Davis, 
and  added:  "Don't  bring  any  more  along  just 
now.  I  judge  by  her  face  she  is  scared  to  death 
already. ' ' 


if 


I 


ME?    I  LIG'  YOU, 


87 


The  girl  looked  gratefully  at  him.  "Ess,  I  nod 
lig'  big  QTowd.  joyful  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  she 
said,  haltingly. 

He  found  a  couple  of  seats  close  by  a  window, 
where  a  soft  breeze  came  through,  and  fanned  her 
flushed  little  face.  In  spite  of  what  Mrs.  Davis  had 
told  her  of  Sinclair's  not  liking  Japanese  girls,  with 
the  usual  confidence  of  a  little  woman  in  a  tall  man, 
Nume  felt  protected  from  the  curious  crowd  when 
with  him.  She  told  him  so  with  a  shy  artlessness 
that  astonished  him. 

"Me?  I  lig'  you,"  she  said,  shyly.  "You  are  big 
— and  thad  you  nod  lig'  poor  liddle  Japanese  womans 
— still  I  lig'  you  jus'  same." 

"I  like  some  of  them,"  he  said,  lamely,  con- 
founded by  the  girl's  direct  words.  "You  see,  J 
have  not  met  any  Japanese  ladies,  and  the  Japanese 
girls  T  have  met  always  struck  me  as  being — well, 
er — too  gay  to  have  much  heart. ' ' 

Nume  shook  her  head.  "Japanese  girl  have  big, 
big  heart,"  she  said,  making  a  motion  with  her 
hands.  "Japanese  boy  go  long  way  from  home — 
see  all  me  big  world;  bud  liddle  Japanese  girl  stay 
at  home  with  f adder  and  mudder,  an'  vaery,  vaery 
good,  bud  parents  luf  always  the  boy.  Sometimes 
Japanese  girl  is  vaery  sad.  Then  account  she  stay  at 
home  too  much,  but  she  not  show  that  she  is  vaery 
sad.  She  laugh  and  talk  so  thad  the  parents  do  nod 
see  she  is  vaery  sad. " 

Sinclair  did  not  interrupt  her.  Her  odd  way  of 
telling  anything  was  so  pretty  and  her  speech  so 
broken  that  he  liked  better  to  hear  her  talk.     But 


.-J»-.__ 


88 


WISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


the  girl  stopped  short  here,  and  looked  quite  embar- 
rassed a  moment.     Then  she  said : 

"Num^  talk  too  much,  perhaps?"  Her  voice  was 
raised  questioningly. 

"No — no — Miss  Numfe  cannot  talk  too  much." 

*'0a,"  the  girl  continued,  smiling  saucily, 
"Americazan  girl  talk  too  much  also?" 

"Sometimes." 

"That  you  do  not  lig'  liddle  Japanese  girl — do  you 
lig'  Americazan  big  proud  girl?" 

"No" — smiling.  "Do  you  like  the  big  proud 
American  girl.  Miss  Numb?" 

"Ess,"  she  answered,  half  doubtingly.  "Ameri- 
cazan lady  is  vaery  pretty.  Sometimes  she  has  great 
big  heart — then  she  change,  and  she  is  liddle,  liddle 
heart — vaery  mean  woman. ' ' 

"What  makes  you  say  that?" 

"Oh !  Numb  watch  everything, ' '  the  girl  answered, 
shrewdly. 

Sinclair  stayed  by  Nume's  side  almost  the  entire 
evening.  She  did  not  know  how  to  dance ;  he  did 
not  care  to ;  and  as  she  told  him  quite  candidly  that 
she  liked  him  to  sit  with  her  better  than  any  one 
else  in  the  room,  he  needed  no  further  excuse.  The 
girl's  beauty  and  naivete  captiv^ated  him,  and  in 
spite  of  her  artlessness  there  were  so  many  genuine 
touches  of  shrewdness  and  cleverness  about  her. 
Sinclair  was  converted  into  the  belief  that  Japanese 
women  were  the  most  charming  women  he  had  met 
— at  least,  if  the  ladies  were  all  as  sweet  and  pretty 
as  Nume. 

During   the  evening   Cleo  Ballard   paused   in  a 


ME?   I  LIG"  YOU." 


89 


dance,  close  by  them.  She  had  noticed  the  atten- 
tion Sinclair  had  paid  the  girl  from  the  beginning. 
He  did  not  see  her  at  first,  but  was  looking  with 
almost  fascinated  eyes  into  the  strangely  interest- 
ing face  of  the  Japanese  maiden.  Sinclair  had  not 
once  danced  with  Cleo  through  the  entire  evening, 
nor  had  he  been  by  her  side  even.  He  had  told  her 
he  did  not  like  dancing,  and  on  this  plea  had  left 
her  to  the  throngs  of  admirers  who  surrounded  her, 
eager  for  a  dance.  There  was  a  look  of  bitter  pride 
on  Cleo's  face  as  she  looked  at  him.  In  America 
Sinclair  had  always  made  it  a  point  to  attach  himself 
almost  scrupulously  to  her,  and  although  she  had 
always  felt  something  lacking  in  his  love  for  her,  it 
pleased  her  that  at  least  he  had  never  given  her 
cause  to  be  jealous  of  any  other  women.  Her  voice 
sounded  harsh  even  to  her  own  ears. 

"Perhaps,  Arthur,  you  will  introduce  me — to 

to  your  friend?"  she  said. 

The  same  pique  that  always  irritated  him  so  was 
in  her  voice  now.  It  was,  he  told  himself,  the 
reminder  to  him  of  his  bondage ;  for  long  ere  this 
the  man  had  admitted  to  himself  that  he  did  not 
love  her.  He  was  too  staunch  by  nature,  however, 
knowing  her  love  for  him,  to  break  with  her.  He 
rose  stiffly  from  his  seat  beside  Numb,  his  face  rather 
flushed. 

"Certainly,"  he  said,  coldly,  and  pronounced  the 
two  girls'  names. 

Instinctively  the  woman  nature  in  Numb  scented 
a  rival — possibly  an  enemy.  She  wished  the  Amer- 
ican gentleman  would  sit  down  again.     She  could 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


I 


i»o 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


not  understand  why  he  should  stand  just  because 
the  beautiful  shining  American  lady  had  wanted  to 
know  her.  The  American  girl's  partner  tapped  her 
lightly  on  the  shoulder,  reminding  her  of  the  dance, 
and  once  more  she  glided  away,  leaving  a  vague 
unrest  behind. 

"Is  the  beautiful  Americazan  lady  your  be- 
trothed?" 

The  man  started,  though  he  evaded  the  question. 

"What  makes  you  ask  that?" 

"All  of  us  have  betrothed,"  the  girl  said, 
vaguely.  "See,  I  will  show  you  viy  betrothed.  He 
stands  over  there  now — talking  to  the  same  pretty 
Americazan  lady." 

"Takashima!"  said  Sinclair. 

"Ess,"  the  girl  answered,  happily. 

Takashima  was  talking  very  seriously  to  Cleo 
Ballard.  There  was  an  impatient,  almost  pettish, 
look  on  her  face.  She  seemed  anxious  to  get  away 
from  him.  Sinclair  saw  her  make  a  motion  to  Mrs. 
Davis,  and  in  some  way  the  two  women  managed  to 
get  rid  of  the  Japanese.  They  stood  talking  for  a 
moment  together,  and  Sinclair  saw  them  look  over 
in  his  direction.  He  noted  Cleo's  movements 
almost  mechanically,  his  mind  being  more  absorbed 
in  what  Num^  had  told  him  about  her  betrothal  to 
Takashima. 

"When  does  the  wedding  take  place?"  he  asked, 
abruptly. 

"Oh!  I  not  know.  We — Orito  and  me — do  not 
like  much  to  hurry,  the  fadders  make  great  haste, ' ' 
she  said. 


I 


ME?    I  LIG"  YOU." 


91 


vSinclair  looked  down  at  her  thoughtfully,  studying 
her  with  a  strange  pang  at  his  heart. 

"So  you  are  Takashima's  little  sweetheart,"  he 
said,  slowly.  "He  used  to  tell  us  about  you  in 
America.  He  said  you  were  the  prettiest  thing  on 
earth,  and  the  boys  didn't  believe  him,  of  course, 
but,  after  all— he  spoke  only  the  truth." 

Again  the  girl  smiled. 

"When  I  was  liddle,  liddle  girl,"  she  said,  "Orito 
carry  me  high  way  up  on  his  shoulder.  Now  I 
grow  big  and  polite,  and  he  is  that  far  away  to  me, 
and  I  thing'  we  are  strangers.  * ' 

The  man  was  silent.  "But  I  am  vaerjy  happy," 
she  continued,  "because  some  day  T  will  be  alto- 
gether with  Orito,  then  we  will  be  much  luf  for  each 
other  again." 

"May  you  always  be  happy,  little  woman,"  Sin- 
clair said,  almost  huskily.  "Happiness  is  a  price- 
less  treasure;  we  throw  away  our  chances  of  it 
sometimes  recklessly,  for  a  joy  of  a  moment  only." 

Mrs.  Davis'  voice  broke  in  on  them.  She  looked 
quite  coldly  at  Sinclair. 

"Come,  Num^,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  meet 
some  other  people. " 


93 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


ADVICE. 


Mrs.  Davis  drew  Numfe  into  a  comer  o£  the 
balcony,  and  sat  down  to  give  her  a  little  lecture. 

"Now,  dear,  I'm  going  to  speak  to  you,  not  as 
your  hostess,  but  as  your  —  a  —  chaperon  —  and 
friend.  You  must  not  speak  too  familiarly  to  any 
man.  Now,  you  ought  not  to  have  sat  with  Mr. 
Sinclair  so  long.  There  were  lots  of  other  men 
around  you,  and  you  didn't  speak  to  any  of  them." 

'*Bud  I  do  nod  lig'  all  the  udder  mans,"  the  girl 
protested.     ^^Mef  I  lig'  only  the — a — Mister  Sinka. ' ' 

"Yesr  but.  Numb,  you  must  not  like  people  so — 
so  quickly.  And  you  must  not  let  any  one  know  it, 
if  you  do." 

"Oa,  I  tell  him  so,"  the  girl  said,  stubbornly. 
•'I  tell  Mr. — Sinka  thad  I  lig'  him  vaciy  much; 
and  I  ask  thad  he  sit  with  me,  so  thad  too  many 
peoples  nod  to  speak  to  me. ' ' 

Mrs.  Davis  looked  very  much  concerned  at  this 
confession. 

"Now,  that  was  imprudent,  my  dear;  besides,  you 
know,"  she  spoke  very  slowly  and  deliberately, 
**Mr.  Sinclair  is  to  be  married  soon  to  Miss  Ballard, 
and  so  you  ought  to  be  very  particular,  so  that  no 
one  can  have  the  chance  to  say  anything  about 
you. ' ' 


ADVICE. 


93 


The  girl's  bright  eyes  flashed. 

*'Mr.  Sinka  nod  led  me  thing'  thad,"  she  said, 
remembering  how  Sinclair  had  evaded  the  question. 
•'I  ask  him  thad  the  pretty  lady  is  betrothed  and  he 
make  me  thing' — no." 

Mrs.  Davis  was  silent  a  moment. 

"Er — that's  only  a  way  American  men  have, 
Num^.  You  must  not  believe  them;  and  be  very 
careful  not  to  tell  them  you  like  them — because — 
because  they — they  often  laugh  at  girls  who  do 
that." 

Num^  did  not  stir.     She  sat  very  still  and  quiet. 

Mr.  Davis  joined  them,  and  noticing  the  girl's 
constrained  face,  he  inquired  what  was  the  matter. 

"Nothing  at  all,  my  dear,"  the  American  lady 
said.     "I  was  just  giving  Num^  some  pointers." 

"Look  here,  Jenny,  you'll  spoil  her — make  hei 
into  a  little  prig,  first  thing  you  know.  At  least, 
she  is  genuine  now,  and  unaffected." 

"Walter,"  Mrs.  Davis  said,  rising  with  dignity^ 
"Mrs.  Ballard  thought  it  outrageous  for  Sinclair  to 
have  sat  with  her  all  evening.  I  never  knew  him 
to  do  such  a  thing  before  with  any  one.  That 
makes  it  all  the  more  noticeable.  Cleo,  to>-),  was 
quite  perturbed." 

When  the  party  broke  up  and  the  guests  were 
slowly  passing  into  their  jinrikishas,  numbers  of 
them  lingered  in  the  garden,  bidding  laughing 
farewells. 

Numfe,  who  was  spending  the  night  with  Mrs. 
Davis,  stood  a  lonely  little  figure  in  the  shadow  of 
the  balcony.     She  did  not  wish  to  say  good-bye  to 

7 


94 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


any  of  them — she  did  not  like  the  pretty  Americans, 
she  told  herself,  because  she  did  not  believe  them 
any  longer. 

Sinclair  went  up  to  her,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Num^,"  he  said. 

The  girl  put  her  littls  hand  behind  her. 

"Num6  not  lig'  any  longer  big  Americazan 
gentlemans, ' '  she  said.  * '  Mrs.  Davees  tell  me  nod  to 
lig' — goonight," — this  last  very  stiffly  and  politely. 

The  man  smiled  grimly:  "Ah,  Miss  Num^,"  he 
said,  "you  must  always  choose  your  own — like 
whom  you  choose;— don't  let  any  one  tell  you  who 
to  like  and  who  not  to. ' ' 

He  looked  searchingly  at  her  face  a  moment, 
then  turned  and  passed  out  with  the  other  guests, 
understanding  the  truth. 


f  ; 


AFRAID  TO  ANSWER. 


95 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

AFRAID  TO  ANSWER. 

It  was  over  ten  days  since  the  Ballards  had  arrived 
in  Tokyo.  Still  Cleo  had  not  given  Takashima  the 
premised  answer.  It  was  not  that  she  any  longer 
hesitated  for  the  sake  of  any  sentiment  she  might 
have  had  for  him,  which  was  the  case  on  the 
steamer,  but  that,  having  led  him  on  to  believe  in 
her,  she  had  not  the  courage  to  let  him  know  the 
truth.  Moreover,  there  was  a  certain  assured, 
determined  look  always  about  his  face  which  fright- 
ened her.  Cleo  was  a  coward  if  she  was  anything. 
It  would  have  been  a  relief  to  her  to  have  confided 
in  Mrs.  Davis,  and  perhaps  to  have  her  break  the 
truth  to  him,  as  gently  as  possible;  but  knowing  of 
her  strong  affection  for  Num^  her  heart  misgave  her 
whenever  she  thought  of  doing  so,  and  she  dreaded 
the  contempt,  perhaps  anger,  that  such  a  revelation 
would  cause  in  Mrs.  Davis.  So  she  put  off  from 
day  to  day.  Whenever  Takashima  called  on  her  at 
the  hotel  she  was  either  out,  or  one  of  a  party,  so 
that  he  found  no  chance  whatever  of  speaking  to  her 
alone.  The  girl  did  everything  in  her  power  to 
avoid  being  alone  with  him.  If  the  young  man 
guessed  anything  of  the  truth,  he  never  showed  it, 
for  he  was  persistent  in  his  visits,  and  when  he  did 
get  a  chance  to  speak  to  Cleo  would  talk  to  her  as 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


naturally  and  confidently  as  he  had  done  those  last 
days  on  the  boat.  It  terrified  Cleo  that  he  refused 
to  be  discouraged,  that  in  spite  of  the  almost  direct 
way  in  which  she  at  times  ignored  him,  he  let  her 
understand,  in  every  conceivable  way  in  his  power, 
that  he  had  not  lost  faith  in  her,  letting  her  believe 
that  he  understood  that  she,  having  so  many  friends, 
must  necessarily  be  surroimded  for  the  first  few 
days,  at  least.  Cleo  did  not  know  whether  he  had 
heard  of  her  engagement  to  Sinclair  or  not.  If  he 
had  heard  of  it  he  simply  ignored  it,  putting  it 
behind  him  as  so  much  gossip,  and  as  an  impossi- 
bility, seeing  the  girl  had  told  him  nothing  of  it 
herself,  and  had  almost  deliberately  encouraged 
him  to  believe  that  his  own  suit  was  not  in  vain.  It 
was  no  use  for  her  to  try  before  Takashima  to  let 
him  see  that  she  and  Sinclair  were  more  to  each 
other  than  friends,  because  Sinclair  was  no  aid  to 
her  in  the  matter.  He  had  become  strangely  cold 
and  reticent,  and  though  he  was  always  the  essence 
of  politeness  and  attention  to  her,  still  he  might 
have  been  just  so  to  any  woman  friend.  Mean- 
while, Takashima  had  not  once  reminded  her  of  her 
promise  to  answer  him.  He  told  himself  he  could 
afford  to  wait  now  that  he  was  so  sure  of  her; 
besides,  his  mind  was  a  good  deal  absorbed  in  going 
over  the  old  familiar  haunts  of  his  boyhood,  and  try- 
ing in  every  way  possible  to  do  little  acts  to  please 
his  father,  and  which  would  make  up  for  the  long 
years  of  separation.  With  Numfe  he  was  on  the 
best  of  terms,  they  being,  however,  more  as  brother 
and  sister  or  very  dear  friends,  rather  than  lovers ; 


AFRAID  TO  ANSWER. 


97 


for  Num^  had  become  as  anxious  as  he  to  put  the 
marriage  off  for  a  time,  and  the  subject  was  seldom 
broached  between  them,  though  their  fathers  often 
alluded  to  it,  and  urged  haste. 

Although  Takashima  and  Sinclair  were  excellent 
friends,  neither  of  them  had  ever  mentioned  Cleo 
Ballard's  name  to  the  other.  Sinclair  knew  nothing 
whatever  of  Takashima's  love  for  the  girl,  or  that 
there  hud  been  anything  between  them;  for  both 
Tom  and  Cleo  had  been  very  careful  to  avoid  tell- 
ing him,  knowing  Takashima  to  be  an  old  friend 
of  his.  Besides,  perhaps  Sinclair's  interest  in  her 
had  flagged,  so  that,  in  spile  of  her  beauty  and 
vivacity,  his  engagement  began  to  pall  on  him.  It 
galled  him  beyond  measure  that  he  did  not  have  the 
freedom  to  go  and  come  when  he  pleased.  This 
was  another  reason  why  he  avoided,  whenever  it 
was  possible,  talking  about  the  girl,  not  wishing  to 
be  reminded  of  her  when  it  was  unnecessary;  for  an 
engagement  where  there  is  no  love  is  the  most  irk- 
some of  things. 

So  they  talked,  instead,  of  Num^.  Sinclair  was 
intensely  interested  in  her.  He  had  a  half-pleas- 
ant, half-painful  memory  of  her  angry  eyes  and 
flushed  face  when  she  had  refused  to  shake  hands 
with  him  in  parting  that  night  of  the  party.  He  had 
not  seen  her  since  then,  though  he  had  paid  several 
visits  to  Mrs.  Davis,  and  even  to  Takashima's  home. 
Orito  told  him  she  had  taken  an  unaccountable 
whim,  after  the  party,  to  become  very  strict  in 
Japanese  etiquette,  and  that  since  then  she  had  been 
living  in  great  seclusion,  not  even  he  (Orito)  seeing 


98 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAX. 


her,  save  in  the  presence  of  her  father.  And  in 
these  talks  about  Num^,  with  her  betrothed,  Sin- 
clair made  one  discovery  which  astonished,  and 
strange  to  say,  pleased  him — it  was  that  Takashima 
did  not  love  her — and  further,  that  the  girl  did  not 
actually  love  Takashima,  though  they  were  the  best 
of  friends.  He  wondered  what  imderstanding  they 
had  come  to  on  the  subject,  and  whether  they  had 
bluntly  told  each  other  that  they  did  not  love  each 
other. 


VISITING  THE  TEA  HOUSES. 


99 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
VISITING  THE  TEA  HOUSES. 

Quite  a  large  party  of  Americans,  which  included 
the  Ballards,  Sinclair,  the  Davises,  the  Cranstons, 
Fannie  Morton,  and  others,  visited  the  picturesque 
tea-houses  on  the  highway  between  Vedu  (Tokyo) 
and  Kyoto.  The  oddly-built  houses,  with  their 
slanting  roofs,  the  beauty  of  their  gardens,  the  per- 
fume-scented air,  rich  with  the  odor  of  cherry  and 
plum  blossom,  all  contributed  to  lend  an  air  of 
delight  and  sunshine  to  the  visits,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans watched  with  pleasure  and  interest  the  pretty 
waitresses  and  geisha  girls,  who  seemed  a  part  of 
the  scene,  as  they  tripped  back  and  forth  before 
them  in  their  brightly-colored  kimonas,  played 
on  the  samisen  and  koto  (harp),  or  danced  for  them. 

One  girl  with  an  unusually  pretty  round  face,  and 
bright,  sly  eyes,  attracted  especial  attention.  She 
waited  on  Cleo  and  Tom  Ballard,  kneeling  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  them,  holding  a  small  tray,  while 
they  drank  the  tiny  cups  of  hot  sake.  Cleo  did  not 
like  the  taste  of  sak^.  She  told  the  little  waitress 
so,  who,  although  not  understanding  a  word  the 
American  girl  had  said,  nodded  her  head  knowingly, 
and  brought  tea  for  her  instead.  She  tripped  on 
her  little  heels  across  the  floor,  padded  about  three 
feet  with  rice  straw,  looking  back  over  her  shoulder 
to  smile  at  Tom,  to  the  amusement  of  that  gentle- 


n 


100 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


man,  and  the  irritation  of  some  of  the  American 
ladies. 

"Japanese  girls  are — rather  bold,"  Rose  Cranston 
said,  sharply. 

"They  are — all  right,"  Tom  answered,  ready  to 
defend  them. 

"Yes,"  said  Fanny  Morton,  with  her  usual 
cynicism.  "Naturally  you  think  so.  Perhaps  we 
women  would,  too,  if  she  peeped  at  us  out  of  her 
wicked  little  eyes  as  she  does  at  you. " 

Cleo  Ballard  laughed,  a  slow,  aggravating,  silvery 
laugh. 

"I  think  they  are  charming.  Miss  Morton,"  and 
then  to  Tom,  "they  are  too  funny,  Tom.  It  is  the 
cutest  thing  in  the  world  to  see  the  way  in  which 
they  deliberately  ignore  us  poor — females.  At  least 
they  don't  make  any  pretense  of  liking  us,  as  we 
would  do  in  America. ' ' 

The  little  geisha  girl  had  come  near  them  again, 
with  a  couple  of  others.  Thy  were  all  pretty,  with 
a  cherry-lipped,  peepy-eyed,  cunning  prettiness. 
They  stood  in  a  group  together,  their  fans  in  their 
hands,  glancing  smilingly  at  the  American  men, 
undisguisedly  trying  to  flirt  with  them." 

Rose  Cranston,  thoroughly  disgusted,  said  loftily: 
"Nasty  little  things,  these  Japanese  women  are." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Tom,  and  went  over  to  them, 
followed  by  Cleo  and  Sinclair. 

"What  is  your  name,  little  gecsa  girl?"  Cleo 
asked,  a  touch  of  patronage  in  her  voice.  The  three 
girls  looked  at  each  other  and  giggled.  Sinclair 
looked  amused.     He  put  the  question  to  them  in 


VISITING  THE  TEA  HOUSES. 


lOI 


n 


n 


0 


Japanese,  and  they  answered  him  readily:  "Koto, 
Kirishima,  and  Matsu." 

"What  very  pretty  names!"  the  American  girl 
said,  graciously.  "Er— do  you  dance,  as  well  as— 
as  serve  tea?" 

Again  the  girls  laughed,  and  Sinclair  told  them 
what  the  American  lady  had  said.  The  girls  nodded 
their  heads  brightly,  and  a  few  minutes  after  were 
dancing  for  the  Americans. 

"Do  they  make  much  money?"  Cleo  asked  Taka- 
shima,  who  had  joined  them. 

"Yes,  but  they  spend  a  great  deal  on  their  clothes. 
They  are  very  gay.  * ' 

"Yes,  they  seem  so,"  Cleo  said,  thoughtfully, 
"and  yet  somehow  they  look  kind  of  tired  and  fagged 
out  at  times.  I  have  been  watching  them  quite 
closely,  and  noticed  this  about  them  in  spite  of  the 
big  show  of  gayety  they  affect. ' ' 

"Their  chief  duty  is  to  arouse  mirth,"  the 
Japanese  answered.  "Therefore  they  must  always 
appear  joyful  themselves.  Some  are  very  witty 
and  accomplished,  and  if  you  understood  Japanese, 
as  you  will  some  day,  you  would  find  a  great  deal  to 
laugh  at  in  what  they  say." 

Towards  evening  the  gardens  began  to  fill  up 
with  more  guests,  and  the  geisha  girls  soon  had  their 
hands  full.  They  talked  and  laughed  with  their 
guests,  sang,  danced,  flirted,  and  played  on  odd 
musical  instruments. 

The  geisha's  chief  attractions  lie  in  her  exquisite 
taste  in  arranging  her  hair,  and  in  the  beauty  of  her 
dress,  the  harmonious  colors  of  which  blend,  accord- 


> 


8 


102 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


ing  to  a  Japanese  idea,  in  an  unsurpassed  way.  Her 
manners,  too,  are  very  graceful,  though  the  younger 
geishas  are  inclined  to  be  boisterous,  and  laugh 
perhaps  too  much.  Moreover,  the  situations  of 
their  houses  and  the  picturesqueness  of  their  tea 
gardens  lend  an  air  of  enchantment  and  charm  to 
the  geisha  girl  and  her  surroundings.  Although  the 
geisha  has  little  history,  having  first  come  into 
existence  the  middle  of  last  century,  her  popularity 
is  such  in  Japan  that  no  parties  are  thought  to  be 
complete  without  her  presence  to  brighten  it  up, — 
to  entertain  the  guests  with  her  accomplishments 
and  infectious  mirth,  and  to  dance  and  play  for 
them.  Although  her  life  is  essentially  rapid  and 
gay,  yet,  in  spite  of  her  lapses  from  virtue  at  times, 
the  geisha  always  retains  her  native  modesty  and 
grace.  It  is  true,  many  of  them  are  extremely 
familiar  with  foreigners,  who  are  their  best  patrons; 
yet,  in  spite  of  this,  the  more  modest  and  virtuous 
a  geisha  is  the  more  are  her  services  required. 

The  remnant  of  the  old  Samourai  class  of  Japan- 
ese, although  very  taciturn  and  grave  in  deportment, 
are,  nevertheless,  extremely  fond  of  the  distractions 
offered  by  the  tea-houses.  They  are  addicted  to 
such  pleasures.  The  snow,  the  full  moon,  flowers 
of  every  season,  national  and  local  fetes, — these  all 
serve  as  pretexts  for  forming  convivial  parties  which 
meet  in  the  picturesque  tea-houses  and  drink  tlie 
sake  hot,  in  tiny  cups,  twenty  or  more  to  the  pint. 
The  fact  that  they  are  so  much  sought  after,  how- 
ever, has  not  spoiled  the  geisha  girl.  In  fact,  when 
you  have  become  acquainted  with  any  one  of  them, 


{ 


VISITING  THE  TEA  HOUSES. 


103 


you  soon  discover  that  she  is  quite  diffident,  modest, 
and  gentle. 

There  are  a  great  many  tea-houses  scattered  over 
Tokyo,  and  on  the  highway  between  that  city  and 
Kyoto;  and  it  is  notable  that  the  style  of  dress  of  the 
waitress  and  the  geisha,  as  well  as  the  dancing  and 
other  amusements,  very  distinctly  differ  from  each 
other  in  each  locality.  Hence,  one  who  starts  out 
in  the  morning  and  visits  a  number  of  different  tea 
and  geisha  gardens  is  hardly  likely  to  be  bored,  as 
he  will  find  new  attractions  in  each  place. 


'  s 


'/ 


104 


MISS  NUWE  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


SHATTERED  HOPES. 


It  was  in  the  month  of  April  that  Orito  had 
arrived  home — April,  the  month  of  cherry  blossoms, 
the  month  when  the  devout  Japanese  celebrate  the 
birth  of  the  great  Buddha.  On  the  eighth  of  that 
month  devotees  go  to  the  temples  where  the  cere- 
mony is  performed.  It  consists  simply  of  pouring 
tea  over  the  sacred  image.  They  also  make  trifling 
contributions  to  the  temple,  carrying  home  with 
them  some  of  the  tea,  which  is  supposed  to  contain 
certain  curative  properties  if  administered  to  one 
suffering  from  disease.  Of  later  years  this  religious 
ceremony  has  been  practically  done  away  w?th, 
although  a  few  devout  followers  still  observe  it. 
Instead  of  performing  any  ceremony  in  memory  of 
Buddha,  many  of  the  people  commemorate  the 
month  of  April  by  simply  being  very  gentle,  kind, 
loving,  and  happy  among  themselves  during  the 
month.  It  is  at  this  time  of  year  that  the  people 
stroll  out  for  hanami  (flower  picnic),  clad  in  ^  ntas- 
tic  costumes,  some  with  masks  over  their  eyes.  To 
the  foreigner  the  surging  crowd  of  holiday  makers 
will  cause  them  to  think  of  an  endless  masquerade. 
No  one  is  allowed  to  pluck  the  cherry  blossom  dur- 
ing the  entire  month,  and  perhaps  this  is  the  reason 
that  the  flower  grows  so  luxuriantly  throughout  the 


SHATTERED  HOPES. 


105 


island,  as  it  is  not  plucked  by  unscrupulous  lovers 
who  might  have  a  rpecial  taste  for  it. 

It  was  because  of  the  fact  that  April  is  a  month  of 
peace  and  good-will  to  almost  every  one,  when  one 
puts  off  the  cares  of  to-day  until  to-morrow,  that 
Orito  had  failed  to  tell  his  parents  of  his  love  for  the 
American  girl.  He  had,  instead,  tried  every  means 
in  his  power  to  please  the  two  old  men,  and  would 
often  sit  by  them  for  hours  listening  to  their  plans 
for  his  and  Nnme's  future,  without  saying  a  word. 
Neither  had  he,  as  yet,  spoken  to  Nume  on  the  sub- 
ject. That  the  girl  was  extremely  fond  of  him  he 
knew,  "but  with  the  reasoning  rather  of  an  American 
than  a  Japanese  he  could  not  believe  that  she 
actually  loved  him,  whom  she  really  scarcely  knew. 

Over  a  month  had  passed  by  since  his  return 
home.  One  day  in  the  month  of  May,  when  the 
fields  were  ablaze  with  a  burning  glory  of  azaleas, 
and  the  sun  touched  their  wild  crimson  with  daz- 
zling splendor,  Orito  told  his  father  and  Omi  of  his 
love  for  the  American  girl.  He  had  invited  them 
both  to  go  with  him  to  Okubo,  the  western  suburb 
of  the  capital,  to  see  some  new  variety  of  the  azalea ; 
for  with  the  birth  of  each  new  flower,  every  month, 
the  Japanese  celebrate  fetes  in  their  honor.  The 
noisy  crowd  of  pleasure-seeker^  had  driven  them 
away  from  the  scene,  however,  to  a  more  secluded 
spot  in  the  woods.  Here  Orito  had  told  them,  very 
gently  but  firmly,  of  his  love  for  the  beautiful 
American  girl.  The  two  old  men  remained  per- 
fectly silent,  looking  at  each  other  with  haggard, 
uncomprehending   eyes.     The  dream  of  their  life 


io6 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


1, 


was  shattered.  There  had  not  been  a  time  since 
Nume  was  born  that  they  had  not  talked  joyously  of 
the  marriage  of  their  two  children,  and  in  their 
strong  pride  in  Orito  they  had  sent  him  to  America 
to  become  very  learned  and  accomplished.  It  had 
seemed  to  them,  sometimes,  that  the  eight  years 
never  would  come  to  an  end.  Now  Orito  had 
returned  to  them,  but  alas,  how  changed!  He 
stood  by  them,  slim  and  quiet,  his  face  sad  but 
determined,  waiting  for  his  father  to  speak. 

Finally  old  Sachi  rose  to  his  feet. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  said,  sharply.  "Do 
you  then  wish  to  go  against  the  command  of  your 
father?     Must  I  then  say  I  have  lost  my  son?" 

"No,  father — I  will  be  more  your  son  than  ever." 

The  old  man's  voice  trembled. 

"Duty!"  he  said,  sternly.  "That  is  the  watch- 
word for  a  Japanese.  Did  you  forget  that  in  Amer- 
ica? Have  you  ceased  to  be  Japanese? — duty  tirst 
of  all  to  your  parents,  to  the  wife  and  children  to 
come,  and  last  to  yourself." 

Orito  was  silent. 

Omi  now  spoke.  "Orito,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
was  quite  dazed  and  stupid,  "you  really  speak  only 
in  jest.     Surely,  it  is  now  too  late  to  change." 

The  young  man's  voice  was  very  low: 

"It  would  be  too  late  had  the  marriage  taken 
place — it  is  not  too  late  now.  Not  so  long  as  I  have 
not  ruined  Nume's  happiness  as  well  as  my  own." 

"Perhaps  after  you  think  this  over  you  will 
change,  my  son,"  Sachi  said,  gently. 

"Nay,  father,  I  would  rather  see  you  reconciled. 


SHATTERED  HOPES.  107 

I  cannot  change  in  this.  You  do  not  understand.  F 
love  her  with  all  my  heart,  and  if— if  she  were 
impossible  to  me,  I  should  surely  die." 

"Could  you,  then,  leave  your  father  to  a  comfort- 
less, childless  life?"  the  old  man  asked,  sadly. 

"We  should  go  together,"  Orito  said. 


io8 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


CONSCIENCE. 

A  pitiful  constraint  had  settled  over  the  nouse- 
holds  of  Takashima  Sachi  and  Watanabe  Omi.  The 
two  old  men  saw  each  other  not  often  now;  for  Sachi 
had  not  the  strength  to  cross  the  eager  vital  will  of 
his  son,  whom  he  loved  so  dearly,  while  Omi  was 
too  stunned  and  grieved  to  care  to  see  them.  So  he 
and  Nume  remained  in  great  seclusion  for  some 
days.  Omi  had  as  yet  told  Nume  nothing  of  what 
Oiito  had  told  them.  He  was  a  shrewd  old  man, 
and  there  came  to  him  a  certain  hope  that  perhaps 
the  American  girl  would,  after  all,  refuse  to  marry 
Orito.  Consequently,  he  thought  he  would  wait  a 
while  before  telling  the  girl  anything.  Orito  called 
on  him  each  day  with  presents  of  tea  and  flowers, 
but  each  time  the  old  man  refused  to  see  him,  send- 
ing word  that  he  and  Nume  were  in  retirement. 
This  gave  Orito  no  opportunity  whatever  of  speak- 
ing to  the  girl  alone.  Sachi  tried  to  convince  him 
constantly  that  she  actually  loved  him,  and  that  it 
would  be  a  cruelty  now,  not  to  marry  her.  The 
young  man  grew  very  despondent,  though  his 
resolve  did  not  lose  any  of  its  firmness.  Sachi  had 
fallen  into  a  pitiful  dull  apathy,  taking  interest  in 
nothing  about  him,  and  refusing  to  take  comfort 
from  his  son,  who  tried  to  be  very  devoted  and  kind 


CONSCIENCE. 


109 


to  him.  Often,  too,  he  would  upbraid  Orito  very 
bitterly.  At  such  times  the  young  man  would  leave 
the  house  and  go  out  into  the  valleys  and  wander 
through  the  woodland  paths,  trying  to  forget  his 
misfortunes  in  the  beauty  of  his  surroundings.  He 
had  not  seen  Cleo  Ballard  for  some  days,  but  he  had 
written  to  her,  telling  her  of  what  he  had  done. 
Cleo  Ballard  had  read  his  letter  with  dread  mis- 
giving. 

**Miss  Cleo,"  it  said  very  simply,  "I  have  told 
my  father  and  Mr.  Watanabe  that  I  cannot  marry 
Num^-san  because  of  my  supreme  love  for  you. 
I  did  not  tell  them  last  month,  because  it  was  the 
season  of  joy,  and  I  wished  to  save  them  pain. 
Now  they  are  very  unhappy,  but  I  tell  myself  that 
soon  will  you  bring  back  joy  to  our  house. ' ' 

His  assurance  frightened  her.  She  read  the  note 
over  and  over,  as  she  sat  before  her  dresser,  her 
maid  brushing  her  hair.  She  shook  the  hair  from 
the  maid's  hands. 

*'I  must  be  alone,  Marie,"  she  said,  and  the  girl 
left  her. 

Long  she  sat  in  silence,  no  sound  escaping  her 
lips  save  one  long  trembling  sigh  of  utter  weariness 
and  regret. 

She  looked  at  her  image  in  the  glass,  seeing  noth- 
ing of  its  beauty. 

"You  are  a  wicked  woman,  Cleo  Ballard,"  she 
said,  "a  wicked,  cruel  woman,  and — and — Oh!  God 
help  me — what  shall  I  do?" 


8 


1 1 


no 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


CONFESSION. 


Cleo  Ballard  did  not  answer  Takashima's  letter. 
All  night  long  it  rose  up  before  her  accusingly,  and 
the  next  morning  she  dressed  in  feverish  haste,  and 
rushed  off  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Davis. 

"Jenny,"  she  said,  wildly,  "I  want  to  go  away — I 
must  go — I  am  stifling  here.     I  must  leave  Tokyo 

— I — I "  she  broke  down  and  covered  her  face 

with  her  hands. 

"Why,  Cleo— what  is  it?"  Her  friend's  kindly 
arms  were  around  her. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  Jenny.  I  can't  tell  you — you 
would  hate  me,  and  then,  except  Tom — Oh,  Jenny, 
I  can't  afford  now  to  lose  any  one's  friendship. " 

"Nothing  you  can  tell  me,  Cleo,  would  make  me 
hate  you.  Is  it  some  flirtation  you  have  carried  too 
far?  Come,  now,  it  used  to  relieve  you  to  tell  me  all 
about  these  things  in  America.  Who  is  it?  Alliston? 
Cranston?    or  the  Englishman? — or — or " 

"No — none  of  them — it — it — Oh,  Jenny,  I  can't 
tell  you. ' ' 

"You  must,  Cleo — it  will  do  you  good,  I  know, 
and  perhaps  I  can  help  you. ' ' 

"Itis— Takashima." 

Jenny  Davis'  hands  dropped  from  Cleo's 
shoulders. 

"Orito!" 


CONFESSION. 


Ill 


The  two  looked  at  each  other  in  tragic  silence. 

"Cleo,  how  could  yoM  do  it?  There  were  enough 
without  him; — when  was  it?  how?  tell  me  all  about 
it— Oh!  poor  little  Num^!" 

"It  was  on  the  steamer " 

"On  the  steamer,"  her  friend  repeated,  stu- 
pidly. "Yes,  go  on;— well,  and  what  happened— 
you ?" 

"Yes— I  did  it  deliberately— I  made  him— care 
for  me.  I  was  lonely,  and  wanted  to  be  amused. 
The  passengers  were  uninteresting  and  stupid.  He 
was  different,  with  his  gentle,  odd  ways.  Some- 
times I  got  almost  frightened  of  myself,  because  he 
took  everything  so  seriously.  I  did  not  mean  to— to 
really  hurt  him.  I  wanted  to  see  how  a  Japanese 
would  act  if  he  were  in  love,  and— and  Tom  kept 
telling  me  how  proof  he  was  against  women— and— 
Oh,  Jenny,  when  he  did  speak  out  to  me,  I  had  not 
the  courage,  then,  to  tell  him  the  truth.  And  all 
the  time  I  knew  it — but " 

Her  friend's  shocked  face  startled  her. 

"Yes;  I  understand,"  she  said,  bitterly.  "I 
knew  you  would  hate  me— I  deserve  it — only 
I " 

Jenny  Davis  put  her  arms  round  her  again. 

"Dear,  I  don't  hate  you.  Indeed,  I  don't,  but  it 
has  startled  me  so.  I  am  so — so  shocked,  because 
of  Nume,  and  the  two  poor  old  men.  I  don't  know 
what  to  say,  but  I'd  stand  hy  you,  dear,  against  all 
the  Japanese  in  Japan  if  it  became  necessary,"  She 
put  her  head  against  Cleo's,  and  the  two  friends 
wept  in  sympathy  with  each  other,  as  women  do. 


113 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"You  must  face  the  thing  out,  Cleo.  Have  you 
told  Takashima  yet?" 

"No; — he  sent  me  iliis  to-day,"  she  put  the  note 
despairingly  into  her  friemVs  hands. 

"How  dreadful  I — how  perfectly  awful! — you  do 
not  know  the  Japanese  as  I  do,  dear.  It  will  just 
break  the  two  old  men's  hearts.  They  have  looked 
forward  to  his  marriage  with  Nume  all  their  lives. 
They  don't  love  their  children  as  we  do  in  America. 
Their  pride  in  them  is  too  pathetic,  Cleo ;  and  when 
they  disappoint  them  it  is  like  a  death-blow. ' ' 

"Don't,  Jenny — don't,  please  don't  talk  about 
them." 

"But  we  must,  Cleo.  That  is  where  the  whole 
mistake  has  always  been  with  you.  You  are  too 
weak,  Cleo.  You  can't  look  suffering  in  the  face, 
and  in  consequence  you  do  nothing  to  relieve  it. 
Your  duty  is  plain.  Go  right  to  Orito  and  tell  him 
the  truth." 

"Jenny,  I  can't  do  it.  He  said  once  on  the 
steamer  that  he  would  not  scruple  to  take  his  life  if 
he  were  very  unhappy ;  and  then  he  went  on  to  tell 
me  how  common  suicides  were  in  Japan,  and  how 
the  Japanese  had  not  the  smallest  fear  of  death,  and 
he  seemed  to  think  it  would  be  a  courageous  act  to — 
to  take  one's  life.  Jenny,  I  got  so  frightened  that 
night  I  almost  screamed  out." 

"But  sooner  or  later  you  will  have  to  tell  him, 
Cleo.  Don't  let  him  know  it  solely  by  your  marry- 
ing Sinclair.  That  would  be  too  cruel ; — tell  him. 
Tell  me,  Cleo,  do  you  think  he  actually  believes  you 
care  for  him?" 


CONFESSION. 


*»3 


<i'i 


'Yes;— once  I  almost  told  him  so—at  least  I  led 
him  to  believe  it— and  it  was  true,  almost,  that 
night." 

'Tleo!' 

'*You  tell  him,  Jenny." 

"I!    Why,  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me,  Cleo." 

Cleo  got  up  desperately,  and  began  pacing  the 
floor. 

"I  will  not  give  Arthur  up,  Jenny.  You  don't 
know  how  I  love  him— love  him.  I  think  day  and 
night  of  him.  I  forgive  him  everything.  He  is 
cold  often,  and  I  am  humiliated  at  his  indifference 
at  times,  but  I  go  on  loving  him  better  than  ever. 
I  can't  help  it; — I  shall  love  him  as  long  as  I  live." 

Jenny  Davis  watched  her  with  anxious  eyes. 
She  had  known  her  for  some  years,  had  known  licr 
better  qualities,  her  weaknesses,  her  strength ;  and 
her  heart  ached  for  her.  She  was  so  beautiful,  with 
a  lithe,  grand,  extraordinary  beauty. 

"Yes,  Cleo,"  she  said,  slowly,  "you  are  right. 
You  must  go  away — right  at  once.  There  is  a  party 
of  English  tourists  going  to  Matsushima  Bay 
to-morrow.  Pack  a  few  things  hastily  and  join 
them.  I  know  them  all  well,  and  you  know  some  of 
them,  too." 

"Yes,"  the  girl  agreed,  eagerly.  "And  you  ivili 
break  it  to  him — you  will  save  me — that— that 
pain. ' ' 

"I  will  try,  Cleo."  The  two  women  were  silent  a 
moment.  Then  Mrs.  Davis  said:  "Cleo,  does 
Arthur  Sinclair  know?" 

Cleo's  eyes  were  full  of  a  vague  terror      "No — no 


il4 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


-and  he  must   not.     Jenny,  he  is  so  strict  about 
such  things— he  would  despise  me;  and  then   Mr 
Takashima  is  his  friend.     He  would  not  forgive  me 
Jenny,  he  must  not  know."    After  a  time  she  said 
almost  wildly;  ''Jenny,  I  hate  Takashima  whenever 
I  thmk  of  his  alienating  Arthur  and  me  for  even  a 
moment,  as  he  would  do  if-if  Arthur  found  out  " 


li 


JAPANESE  PRIDE. 


115 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
JAPANESE  PRIDE. 

The  next  day  Clco  left  Tokyo  with  the  party  of 
tourists.  Takashima,  who  had  called  duriny  the 
afternoon,  found  a  note  from  her.  It  told  him  sim- 
ply that  she  had  decided  to  make  a  trip  through  the 
island,  and  as  the  party  left  that  day  slic  had  no 
time  save  to  write  a  hurried  j,rood-bye.  The  letter 
was  weak,  conventional  in  its  phrases,  and 
enigmatical.  Had  it  been  written  to  a  westerner 
he  would  have  understood  at  once;  in  fact,  her 
manner,  long  before  this,  would  have  raised  doubts 
as  to  her  honesty  toward  him.  It  did  not  have  that 
effect  on  Takashima,  because  it  is  the  nature  of  the 
Japanese  to  believe  thoroughly  in  one  until  they  are 
completely  undeceived.  On  returning  home  Orito 
found  waiting  for  him  a  dainty  note  from  Mrs. 
Davis,  asking  him  to  call  on  her. 

It  was  a  difficult  task  she  had  set  herself — difficult 
even  for  a  woman  of  Mrs.  Davis'  social  and  worldly 
experience. 

When  Orito  looked  at  her  with  grave,  attentive 
eyes,  in  which  were  no  traces  of  distrust,  she  felt 
her  heart  begin  to  fail  her  before  she  had  said  a 
word.  They  talked  of  the  weather,  of  the  flowers, 
of  the  month,  the  foreigners  in  Tokyo,  the  pretty 
geisha  girls — every  subject  save  the  one  she  had  at 


ii6 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


heart.  Finally  she  dashed  into  it  all  at  once,  almost 
desperately.  Perhaps  she  had  learned  in  that  brief 
interview  why  it  had  been  so  hard  for  Cleo  to  tell 
him,  for  the  young  man's  face  was  so  earnest,  pure, 
and  true. 

"Cleo  has  told  me — I  know  all  about  that — and  I 
— she  told  me  to  say — I  mean — I  know  about  your — 
your  caring  for  her,  and ' ' 

The  Japanese  had  risen  sharply  to  his  feet.  He 
was  deathly  pale. 

"Will  madam  kindly  not  speak  of  this?"  he  said. 
"I  can  only  speak  with  Miss  Ballard  herself  on  this 
subject. ' ' 

After  he  had  left  her  Mrs.  Davis  sat  down  help- 
lessly, and  wrote  a  flurried  letter  to  Cleo. 

"Dearest  Cleo,"  it  ran,  "I  tried  to  tell  him; 
tried  harder  than  1  ever  tried  to  do  anything  in  my 
life.  But  he  would  not  let  me  speak — stopped  me 
as  soon  as  I  got  started,  and  I  had  not  the  heart  to 
insist." 


SECLUSION. 


117 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 


SECLUSION. 


Mrs.  Davis  had  not  seen  Nume  for  some  days. 
She  had  heard  that  the  girl  was  living  in  strict 
seclusion,  as  it  was  customary  for  Japanese  girls  to 
do  previous  to  their  marriage.  With  a  woman's 
quick  wit  and  comprehension,  however,  Mrs.  Davis 
understood  that  she  had  taken  umbrage,  and,  per- 
haps, resented  the  lecture  she  had  given  her  the 
night  cf  the  party.  She  was  afraid,  too,  that  in  her 
earnest  desire  to  serve  both  Cleo  and  Orito  she  had 
given  Num^  a  false  impression  of  Americans.  Mrs. 
Davis  was  a  good  woman,  and  a  wise  one.  She  was 
determined  that  nothing  on  earth  should  prevent 
her  friend's  marriage  with  Sinclair.  She  knew  Cleo 
Ballard  well  enough  to  know  the  wonderful  goodness 
and  generosity  in  her  better  nature.  She  knew  also 
that  she  loved  Sinclair  with  a  love  that  should  have 
been  her  salvation.  In  spite  of  all  this,  Mrs.  Davis 
was  genuinely  fond  of  Num^,  though  not,  of  course, 
in  the  same  way  as  she  was  of  Cleo.  It  pained 
her,  therefore,  to  think  that  Numfe  was  probably 
suffering. 

The  day  after  Cleo  left,  she  crossed  the  valley  and 
went  down  to  the  house  of  Watanabe  Omi.  With 
her  usual  sang-froid,  she  asked  to  see  Num^.  Omi 
made  some  very  polite  apologies,  saying  his  honor- 


ii8 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


ably  unworthy  daughter  was  entertaining  a  friend, 
and  would  the  august  American  lady  call  the  next  day? 

'*No;"  Mrs.  Davis  would  like  to  see  Num^'s 
friend  also ;  for  Num^  had  told  her  she  wanted  her 
to  meet  all  of  them. 

She  passed  into  the  girl's  room  with  the  familiarity 
of  old  acquaintance,  for  she  and  Num^  had  been 
great  friends,  and  Omi  thought  so  much  of  her 
that  the  American  lady  had  got  into  the  habit  of 
coming  and  going  into  and  out  of  his  house  just 
as  she  pleased,  which  was  a  great  concession  and 
compliment  for  any  Japanese  to  make  to  a  for- 
eigner. 

She  found  Nume  sitting  with  another  Japanese 
girl,  playing  Karutta.  They  laughed  and  talked  as 
they  played,  and  Num^  seemed  quite  light-hearted 
and  happy. 

Mrs.  Davis  sat  down  on  the  mat  beside  her,  and 
after  having  kissed  her  very  affectionately,  asked 
why  she  had  not  been  over  for  so  long. 

* '  I  come  visite  you  to-morrow, ' '  the  girl  answered, 
looking  a  trifle  ashamed,  as  Mrs.  Davis  regarded  her 
reproachfully.  Then,  as  she  started  to  make  further 
apologies,  the  American  lady  said,  very  sweetly: 
"Never  mind,  dear;  I  understand; — you  did  not 
like  what  I  told  you  the  other  night. ' ' 

Nume  did  not  answer.  The  other  Japanese  girl 
watched  Mrs.  Davis  curiously.  Mrs.  Davis  turned 
smilingly  to  her  and  started  to  say  something,  but 
stopped  short,  a  look  of  puzzled  recognition  on  her 
face. 

"I    am    sure    I  have    seen   your   friend   some- 


i> 


SECLUSION. 


119 


i« 


i> 


where  before,  but  I  can't  tell  where,"  she  said  to 
Num&. 

"Perhaps  you  seeing  her  at  the  tea  garden, 
because  Koto  was,  one  time,  geisha  girl. ' ' 

"Why,  of  course!  I  remember  now.  She  was 
the  pretty  little  Japanese  girl  who  waited  on  us  that 
day  and  made  Rose  Cranston  so  angry  by  flirting 
with  Tom." 

The  girl  was  smiling  at  Mrs.  Davis.  She  too 
recognized  her.     Mrs.  Davis  turned  to  Nume: 

"I  don't  understand,  Nume,  how — how  a  geisha 
girl  can  be  a  friend  of  yours, ' '  she  said. 

Nume  looked  very  grave. 

"Japanese  lady  always  have  frien'  who  is  also 
maid.     Koto  is  my  maid;  also  my  frien'," 

"I  understand,"  the  American  lady  said  thought- 
fully. 

Japanese  ladies  usually  treat  their  maids  more  as 
sisters  than  as  maids.  In  fact,  one  of  the  duties  of 
a  maid  is  to  act  as  companion  to  her  mistress. 
Hence,  it  is  necessary  that  the  maid  be  quite  accom- 
plished and  entertaining.  Often  a  geisha  girl  will 
prefer  to  leave  the  tea-house  where  she  is  employed, 
to  take  a  position  as  companion  and  maid  to  some 
kind  and  rich  lady  of  the  Kazoku  and  Samourai 
class,  and  in  this  way  she  learns  to  be  very  gentle 
and  polite  in  her  manners  by  copying  her  little  mis- 
tress ;  besides,  she  will  have  a  good  home.  It  is  a 
peculiar  fact  that  Japanese  holding  positions  such 
as  maid,  or,  for  a  man,  perhaps  as  retainer  or  valet, 
or  even  servant,  become  extremely  devoted  to  their 
masters  and  mistresses,  remaining  with  them  until 


I20 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


with   them   after  they  have  married,  rather  than 
marry  themselves.     It  is  no  «ncomm'o„  thing  for 

Ine^  fir  T      "^"^'^''  «°'°«''"e=  almost  heroic 
ones,  for  their  masters  or  mistresses. 


■> 


FEMININE  DIPLOMACY. 


121 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

FEMININE  DIPLOMACY. 

The  next  day  Num^  and  Koto  visited  the  Ameri- 
can lady.  Orito  had  gone  up  to  Yokohama,  Nwmh 
told  her,  and  would  not  be  back  for  several  days. 
"You  will  be  very  lonely  then,  dear." 
Num^  sat  in  her  favorite  position,  on  the  floor  at 
Mrs.  Davis'  knee.  Koto  trotted  about  the  room, 
examining  with  extreme  interest  rmd  curicsity  the 
American  furnishings  and  decorations. 

'•No;  I  nod  be  lonely,"  Nume  si\id,  ''because  I 
nod  seen  Orito  wanjf  days — so  I  ged  used." 

"He  must  be  a  very  bad  boy  to  keep  away  from 
you  so  many  days,"  Mrs.  Davis  said,  playfully. 

"Oh,  no!  Orito  is  vaery good  boy."  She  sat  still 
and  thoughtful  for  a  while,  her  feet  drawn  under 
her,  her  little  hands  clasped  in  her  lap. 

"Do  the  pretty  Americazan  ladies  always  luf 
when  they  marry?" 

"Nearly  always,  Num^." 

Num^  nodded  her  head  thoughtfully.  "Japanese 
girls  nod  ahvays  luf,"  she  said,  wistfully.  "Koto 
say  only  geisha  girls  marry  for  luf. " 

"That  must  be  because  they  are  thrown  into  con- 
tact  with  men  and  boys,  while  Japanese  ladies  are 
secluded.     Is  it  not  so,  dear?" 

"Ess.  Mrs.  Davees,  do  you  lig'  that  I  am  goin* 
to  marry  Orito?" 


I 


122 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Yes,  very  much — I  am  sure  you  will  be  very 
happy  with  him.  He  is  so  good.  No  one  has  said 
anything  to  you  about — about  it,  have  they?"  she 
added,  anxiously,  fearing  perhaps  the  girl  had 
heard  of  what  Orito  had  told  his  father. 

"No,"  she  said.  "No  one  talk  of  luf  to  Name 
bud  Mrs.  Davees;  thad  is  why  Nume  lig'  to  talk  to 
you. ' ' 

The  American  lady  smiled. 

"Suppose  Japanese  girl  lig'  instead  some  iii::i\ 
pretty  genleman,  and  she  marry  with  some  one  she 
nod  like?"  She  emphasized  this  question,  and  threw 
a  charming  glance  at  Mrs.  Davis, 

"Do  you  mean  the  case  of  a  girl  betrothed  to  one 
man  and  in  love  with  another?" 

"Ess." 

"Why,  I  don't  know  what  she  could  do  then, 
Num^.     What  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head?" 

Num^  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
said,  very  shyly:  "Nume  not  lig'  the  big,  ugly 
Americazan  genleman  any  more.    I  telling  him  so." 

"Nume!" 

"Ess,  I  tell  Mr.  Sinka  I  nod  lig'— thad  you  tell- 
ing me  so." 

"Well,  Nume!"  Mrs.  Davis'  voice  betrayed  her 
impatience.     "What  did  you  do  that  for?" 

The  girl  half  shrugged  her  little  shoulders. 

"Oa!  Idunno." 

"Nume,  you  must  be  careful  how  you  speak  to 
men.  Don't  tell  them  anything.  If  you  like  them, 
keep  it  to  yourself;  it's  a  good  thing  you  told  him 
you  disliked  him,  this  time,  and  did  not  leave  him 


FEMININE  DIPLOMACY.  123 

with  the  impression  that  you  were  in  love  with  him 
You  know,  dear,  girls  have  to  be  very  careful  whom 
they  like." 

"Bud,  Mr.  Sinka  tell  me  nod  to  let  anyone  choose 
for  me-thad  I  lig'  "-she  paused  a  moment,  and 
added  vaguely,  "thad  I  lig'  who  I  lig'." 

"Really,  Num^,  you  might  take  my  advice  before 
Mr.  bmclair's,"  the  older  lady  said,  quite  provoked. 


I- t.i 


134 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


:' 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


A  BARBARIAN  DINNER. 


P 


The  girls  stayed  to  dinner  with  Mrs.  Davis.  Koto 
had  never  eaten  an  American  dinner  before,  though 
Num^  had  grown  quite  used  to  it.  Following  the 
national  custom,  she  ate  all  placed  before  her  by  her 
hostess,  and  Mrs.  Davis,  knowing  of  this  little  habit 
of  hers,  which  was  more  an  act  of  compliment  to  her 
hostess  than  of  liking  for  the  food,  was  always  very 
careful  not  to  serve  her  too  much.  She  quite  for- 
got that  Koto  would  be  altogether  unused  to  the 
food.  The  two  little  Japanese  women  presented  a 
very  pretty  contrast.  Both  were  small  and,  in  their 
way,  pretty.  Koto  had  a  round-faced,  bright-eyed, 
shy  prettiness;  while  Nume's  face  was  oval  and 
pure  in  contour.  She  chatted  very  happily  and 
confidently,  now  in  Japanese  to  Koto,  now  in  pretty 
broken  English  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davis. 

Koto  ate  her  dinner  in  silence,  her  face  strangely 
white  and  pitiful.  Very  bravely  she  ate  the  strange 
food,  however,  stopping  at  nothing.  She  looked 
with  wonder  at  the  butter  (something  the  Japanese 
never  use),  puzzling  for  a  moment  what  she  was  sup- 
posed to  do  with  it,  then  picked  the  little  round  pat 
from  the  butter-plate,  slipped  it  into  her  tea,  and 
drank  the  tea. 

Mr.  Davis  saw  this  act,  and  choked. 


A  BARBARIAN  DINNER. 


"5 


"What  is  the  matter,  Walter?" 

"Er — er — hum — nothing,  my  dear!  I — a — Oh, 
Lord!"  This  last  ejaculation  was  provoked  by 
another  act  of  Koto's.  On  the  table  was  a  small 
plate  of  chowchow.  The  servant  passed  it  to  Koto, 
thinking  perhaps  she  would  like  some  with  her 
meat.  Instead  of  helping  herself  to  some,  the  girl 
held  the  dish  in  her  hand,  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  very  heroically  ate  the  hot  stuff  all  up  with  the 
small  china  spoon  in  the  dish.  Her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears  when  she  had  finished. 

"What  is  it,  Koto-san?"  Nume  asked,  gently. 

"It  is  the  barbarian  food,"  the  girl  answered, 
desperately,  in  Japanese.     "I  do  not  like  it." 

Num^  translated  this  to  the  Americans,  apologiz- 
ing for  the  remark  by  saying : 

"Koto  always  been  geisha  girl.  Tha's  why  she 
is  nod  most  careful  in  her  speech.  It  was  most  rude 
that  she  spik'  so  of  the  kind  Americazan's  food,  bud 
the  geisha  girl  is  only  stylish,  and  nod  understan'  to 
spik'  polite  to  foreigners." 

This  elaborate,  rather  mixed  apology,  the  Amer- 
icans took  very  good-naturedly,  telling  Num^  to 
assure  Koto  that  they  bore  her  no  malice  whatever, 
and  that,  in  fact,  they  owed  her  an  apology  for  not 
having  remembered  that  she  was  a  stranger  to  their 
food.  Besides,  the  Americans  were  just  as  foolish 
when  they  had  eaten  Japanese  food. 


y  I 


9 


I 


i 


(a6 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
THE   PHILOSOPHY  OF   LOVE. 

After  dinner  Num^  resumed  her  seat  by  Mrs. 
Davis,  while  her  husband  took  Koto  through  the 
house,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  air  his  limited 
knowledge  of  Japanese;  for  Nume  seldom  permitted 
them  to  address  her  save  in  English,  pretending  to 
make  great  fun  of  their  Japanese  in  order  to  make 
them  speak  English  to  her.  They,  on  the  other 
hand,  always  praised  her  English  extravagantly. 

"I  want  you  to  promise  me,  Nume,  that  you  will 
never  tell  any  man  you  care  for  him  again,  unless 
it  is  Orito." 

"Why  shall  \  promise?"'  the  girl  asked. 

"Because  it  is  not  the  right  thing  to  say  to  any 
one." 

"Butif  Iluf " 

"Nonsense;  you  are  not  going  to  love  except  as 
all  good  Japanese  girls  do — after  your  marriage." 

"But  you  say  one  time  thad  is  shame  for  me  thad 
I  only  luf  after  I  marry. ' ' 

"Well,  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,"  the  other 
answered,  a  trifle  rattled — "and — and  really,  you 
are  all  so  happy  with  things  that  way  I  wouldn't 
advise  your  changing  the  custom. ' ' 

"Bud  Japanese  girl  luf  a  liddle  before  theymarry. 
After  marriage  big  bit.     Koto  say  geisha  girl  luf  hig 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LOVE. 


127 


bit  before  they  marry.     Koto  luf  vaery  much  Japan- 
ese boy  in  Tokyo " 

"That  is  good,  and  are  they  to  be  married?" 

"Ah,  no;  because  he  worg  vaery  hard  to  mag' 
money,  but  Koto  say  mag'  vaery  liddle  money,  so 
she  come  worg'  for  me,  and  save — afterivard  they 
marry  vaery  habby." 

Num^  looked  at  the  American  lady  with  eyes  full 
of  wistful  wondering:  "I  thing'  I  lig'  vaery  much 
thad  I  luf  and  be  habby  too.  Nume  nod  know  thad 
she  luf  Orito  vaery  much — Ess,  she  luf  him  vaery 
much,  bud — sometimes  I  thing'  I  nod  ////  him  too 
much;  sometimes  I  thing'  mebbe  Orito  nod  luf  me 
too  much." 

"Of  course,  you  do  love  him,  goosie.  Now,  don't 
begin  thinking  you  don't,  because  one  often  con- 
vinces oneself  of  things  that  are  not  actually  so. ' ' 

"Bud  I  do  nod  thing'  much  of  Orito,"  the  girl 
contradicted;  and  added,  shyly:  "I  thing',  instead, 
of  Mr.  Sinka — but  I  not  lig'— No!  Num5  nod  lig' 
Mr.  Sinka;"  she  shook  her  head  violently. 

Mrs.  Davis  called  all  the  argument  she  could  to 
her  aid. 

"You  ought  not  to  think  of  him,  Nume;  that  is 
wicked,  because  he  belongs  to  some  one  else." 

The  girl's  face  had  lost  its  wistfulness.  Now  it 
was  arch  and  complacent. 

"Perhaps  Nume  is  vaery  wigged,"  she  smiled. 
"Koto  say  all  girls  thad  are  habby  are  wigged." 

"Koto  is  a  bad  girl  if  she  told  you  that.  Don't 
let  her  teach  you  about  the  geisha  girls,  dear — Er — 
every  one  knows  they  are  not  a  good  class,  at  all.'" 


pp 


i 


1 1 


It 


laS 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Num^  tossed  her  head  provokingly.  "All  the 
samf,  Num^  still  t/iing'  of  Mr.  Sinka. " 

Her  persistence  astounded  Mrs.  Davis.  She  felt 
almost  like  shaking  the  girl;  and  yet  there  was 
something  so  sweet  and  innocent  in  her  openly 
acknowledging  that  she  thought  of  Sinclair. 

She  had  not  been  out  much,  nor  had  she  seen 
many  people  since  the  night  of  the  party.  There- 
fore, it  was  quite  natural  that,  as  Sinclair  had  made 
such  an  impression  on  her  that  night,  she  should 
think  about  him  a  great  deal.  Moreover,  Koto, 
with  a  geisha  girl's  usual  flippancy  and  love  of  any- 
thing savoring  of  romance,  had  perhaps  fostered  this 
feeling.     The  girls  had  discussed  him. 

Ever  since  he  had  told  his  father  of  his  love  for 
the  American  girl,  Orito  had  been  very  kind  to  her, 
though  sometimes  Nume  fancied  he  wished  to  tell 
her  something.  Her  interest  in  Sinclair  had  not 
spoiled  her  loyalty  to  Orito,  which  she  had  felt  and 
cultivated  all  these  years.  Koto  had  encouraged 
her  in  the  idea  of  flirting  with  the  American.  That 
was  all.  She  never  for  an  instant  thought  of  break- 
ing off  her  betrothal  with  Orito.  She  had  grown 
used  to  that,  and,  unlike  Orito,  she  had  not  been  in 
America,  so  that  she  still  was  Japanese  enough  to  be 
obedient.  Besides,  she  really  did  love  Orito  in  a 
way  that  she  herself  did  not  comprehend.  Because, 
although  it  pleased  her  very  much  to  be  with  him, 
to  chat  and  tell  him  all  the  news  of  the  neighborhood 
in  which  they  lived,  ask  his  advice  and  opinion  on 
different  subjects,  yet  her  mind  kept  constantly 
wandering  from  him,  and  she  could  call  up  no  gen- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LOVE.  129 

nine  warmth  or  enthusiasm  in  her  affection  for  him. 
The  truth  was,  her  love  for  him  was  merely  that  of 
a  young  sister  for  a  very  dear  brother,  one  from 
whom  she  had  been  parted  for  a  long  time. 


'  j 

in 


\ 


1  i 
i 


1 


130 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
WHAT  CAN   THAT   "LUF"   BE? 

Perhaps  Orito  recognized  this  fact,  and  for  that 
reason  seldom  wearied  her  with  over-attention.  He 
was  tenderness  itself  to  her;  he  took  great  interest 
in  all  her  studies;  played  games  with  her  and 
Koto;  and  tried  in  every  way  possible  to  make 
things  pleasant  for  her.  In  this  way  a  very  dear 
sympathy  had  sprung  up  between  them.  Although 
Orito  had  told  her  nothing  directly  of  his  plans,  yet 
he  had  often  tried  to  give  her  some  inkling  of  the 
state  of  affairs.  Thus,  he  would  say:  "I  will  be 
your  friend  and  brother  forever,  Numfe-san. " 

Nume  had  a  peculiar  temperament  for  a  Japanese 
girl.  Although  apparently  open  and  ingenuous  and 
artless  in  all  things,  nevertheless  where  she  chose  to 
be  she  could  keep  her  own  counsel,  and  one  might 
almost  have  accused  her  of  being  sly.  But  then  the 
girl  was  far  from  being  as  childish,  or  as  innocent 
and  contented,  as  she  seemed  at  times.  On  the 
contrary,  her  nature  was  self-willed  almost  to 
stubbornness.  She  either  loved  one  with  all  her 
strength,  or  she  was  indifferent,  or  she  hated  one 
fiercely.  There  was  nothing  lukewarm  about  her. 
Perhaps  when  she  should  meet  the  one  to  whom  she 
could  give  her  heart,  she  would  give  it  with  a  pas- 
sion that  would  shake  every  fibre  of  her  little  body. 


WHAT  CAN  THAT  "LUF"  BE? 


Ui 


This  was  the  reason  why  she  was  restless  in  her 
betrothal  to  Orito. 

She  instinctively  felt  her  capability  for  a  deeper 
love.  The  Japanese  are  not,  as  a  rule,  a  demonstra- 
tive people.  It  is  said  to  be  a  weakness  to  love 
before  marriage,  though  a  great  many  do  so,  espe- 
cially those  who  are  thrown  into  contact  with  the 
opposite  sex  to  any  extent.  Numb  knew  this,  and 
strove  bravely  to  live  up  to  the  popular  idea.  She 
did  not,  as  yet,  understand  her  own  self,  nor  was 
she  cognizant  of  the  possibilities  for  feeling  which 
were  latent  in  her.  She  attributed  her  restlessness 
solely  to  the  fact  that  she  was  so  soon  to  be  married. 
She  had  not  analyzed  the  word  "love. "  It  had  only 
existed  in  her  vocabulary  since  she  had  known  the 
Americans.  She  had  tired  Mrs.  Davis  out  asking 
questions  about  it.  "Was  this  luf  good?"  "Was  it 
wrong  to  luf  too  many  people?"  "Why  must  she 
not  tell  when  she  lufed  any  one?"  "Did  the  pretty 
Americazan  ladies  luf  their  husbands,  and  was  that 
why  they  were  always  so  proud  and  beautiful?" 
"She"  (Numfe)  "would  like  to  luf  too."— "How 
would  she  know  it?" 

These  almost  unanswerable  questions,  and  many 
others,  she  put  to  Mrs  Davis,  that  lady  answering 
them  as  sagely  and  wisely  as  possible,  the  natural 
love  of  romance  prompting  her  to  encourage  the 
girl  to  talk  so,  but  her  desire  to  give  only  such 
advice  as  would  keep  her  from  thinking  o'  Sinclair 
causing  her  to  modify  her  answers  so  that  they 
m.ght  suit  the  case.  The  worst  of  the  matter  was 
that  although  Nume  would  thank  her  very  sweetly 


I 


■■■Qi 


13a 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


for  any  information  on  the  subject,  she  had  a 
hngering  doubt  that  she  ever  wholly  believed  her, 
and  that,  in  spite  o"  '  -  advice,  the  girl  would  will- 
fully permit  her  1  ..ghts  to  run  riot.  No!  the 
Americazan  lady  could  not  prevent  Num^  from 
thinking  of  whom  she  chose. 


CONSPIRATORS. 


^33 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

CONSPIRATORS. 

This  visit  to  Mrs.  Davis'  house  broke  the  retire- 
ment  Omi  and  Num^  had  planned  for  themselves. 
Besides,   the  girl  was  tired   of   the   seclusion,   and 
wanted  to  go  out  once  more.     And  Omi  had  lost  a 
good  deal  of  the  old  interest  in  his  daughter  that  he 
had  had  before  Orito  had  told  him  of  his  love  for  the 
American  girl.     He  was  still  very  strict  with  her,  at 
times;  but  soon  he  got  into  the  habit  of  neglecting 
her,  and  would  go  over  to  the  house  of  Sachi,  where 
the   two  old  men   would  sit    mournfuUv  together, 
neither  of  them  alluding  in  any  way  to'  their  chil- 
dren ;  so  that  Nume  was  left  a  great  deal  to  herself, 
and  allowed  to  do  pretty  much  as  she  liked.     She 
and  Koto  would  start  out  in  the  mornings  with  their 
lunches  in  tiny  baskets,  and  would  spend  the  entire 
day  on  the  hills,  or  the  shores  of  the  Hayama,  wan- 
dering idly  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  trees,  or  gather- 
ing pebbles  and  shells  on  the  shore.     Sometimes  they 
would    join  parties  of    young  Japanese   girls   and 
boys,  who  came  up  to  the  hills  from  a  little  village 
near  there.     They  were  the  children  of  fishermen, 
ind  were  plump  and   healthy  and  happy.     Num^ 
and  Koto  would  play  with  them  as  joyously  as  if 
they,  themselves,  were  children. 

One  day  when  Num^  and  Koto  were  in  the  woods 

10 


y 


I 


•  t 


=1; 


134 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


alone  together,  and  Nume  had  made  Koto  tell  her 
over  and  over  again  of  the  gay  life  of  the  geisha 
girls  in  Tokyo,  Num^  said : 

"Koto-san,  let  us  some  day  go  up  to  Tokyo 
alone.  Lots  of  girls  now  travel  alone,  and  we  are 
so  near  the  city.  We  would  not  let  my  father  know, 
and  as  he  is  away  with  Takashima  Sachi  all  day,  he 
would  never  miss  us.  No  one  will  recognize  us  in 
the  city,  or  if  they  do  they'll  think  we  are  there  with 
some  friends,  but  it  is  common  for  two  girls  to  be 
together  in  the  city,  is  it  not,  Koto?" 

Koto  said  it  was,  but  looked  a  trifle  scared  at  this 
proposal.  However,  she  was  as  eaqfer  as  Numfe  to 
carry  it  out,  for  they  had  both  grown  very  tired  of 
the  quietness  of  their  life ;  especially  Koto,  who  was 
used  to  the  noisy  city.  She  entered  into  the  project 
at  once. 

"Let  me  go  first  to  the  city  alone  to-morrow,"  sh 
said,  "and  I  will  tell  your  father  that  I  have  busi- 
ness to  do  there ;  then  I  will  go  and  make  arrange- 
ments at  a  jinrikisha  stand  to  send  a  special  vehicle 
to  meet  us  each  day — or  every  other  day." 

"And  will  ve  see  Shiku?"  Num^  asked. 

Koto's  face  beamed. 

"If  you  say  so,  Nume-san — if  you  will  permit. 

'Why,  of  course  I  will,"  Nume  said,  excitedly. 
"Where  will  we  see  him?" 

"I  will  tell  him  to  meet  us.  He  works  for  the 
American  consul,  and  he  is  very  good  to  Shiku. ' ' 

Numb  looked  at  her  narrowly. 

"Do  you  know,  Koto-san,  that  the  American 
consul  is  the  Mr.  Sinka  I  tell  you  of?" 


CONSPIRATORS.  135 

*'No;  Shiku  calls  him  only  'master  sir,'  and  'the 
consul.'  " 

Nume  was  silent  a  moment. 

''And  will  we  see  the  consul  also,  Koto?" 

"Oh,  no!  because  if  we  do  not  want  any  one  to 
know  we  must  be  very  careful  not  to  be  recognized.  " 

So  the  two  girls  planned,  and  the  next  day  Koto 
went  up  to  the  city  and  made  every  arrangement. 


Bit 


I 


136 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
A  RESPITE  FOR  SINCLAIR. 

It  was  about  two  weeks  later.  Orito  had  not 
returned  from  Yokohama,  neither  had  Cleo  Ballard 
re'iirned  from  Matsushima.  She  was  enchanted 
"'vi'.li  the  beauty  of  the  wonderful  bay,  and  after  the 
stri-iu  sh<^  had  been  under  in  Tokyo,  it  was  a  great 
relief  '  "ler  to  be  away  from  the  noise  of  the  city 
Ai  a  ;  p  ;c    -'i  suggested  only  beauty  and  rest. 

Sinclair  nad  not  accompanied  them  on  the  trip. 
He  had  been  somewhat  surprised  at  the  haste  in 
which  it  had  been  undertaken,  and  had  told  Cleo 
that  unless  he  corld  travel  leisurely  he  did  not  care 
to  go  at  all;  besides,  he  never  enjoyed  traveling 
with  a  large  party  of  tourists,  preferring  to  go  alone 
with  one  congenial  companion.  However,  he  urged 
her  to  go,  saying  that  he  might  run  down  himself 
and  join  them  in  a  few  days. 

After  the  departure  of  the  party  he  was  left  almost 
entirely  to  himself.  He  found  time  for  looking 
about  him.  It  was  a  relief  for  the  time  being  to  feel 
free  once  more,  and  to  come  and  go  as  he  chose; 
whereas,  when  the  Ballards  were  in  the  city,  he  had 
always  felt  in  duty  bound  to  be  with  them  con- 
stantly, and  to  place  himself  and  his  time  entirely 
at  their  disposal.  Sinclair  was  not  looking  well. 
He  had  grown  thin  and  nervous,  and  there  was  a 


A  RESPITE  FOR  SINCLAIR. 


137 


harassed  look  about  his  usually  sunny  face.  Sinclair 
was  by  no  means  an  extraordinary  or  brilliant  man. 
He  was  easy-going  in  disposition,  a  trifle  stern  and 
harsh  to  those  he  disliked,  but  as  a  rule  genial  and 
easy  to  get  on  with.  He  was  a  favorite  both  with 
men  and  women.  He  was  too  good-natured  to  be  a 
strong  man,  perhaps,  and  was  easily  swayed  by  his 
own  likes  and  dislikes. 

His  engagement  worried  him  more  than  he  cared 
to  admit.  He  told  himself  constantly  that  he  ought 
to  be  happy,  that  nine  men  out  of  ten  would  have 
envied  him  Cleo.  He  recognized  that  she  was  good 
and  generous,  as  well  as  beautiful ;  but  yet  all  this 
seemed  rather  to  paralyze  his  efforts  to  love  her 
than  otherwise.  He  knew  her  beauty  and  charms 
too  well.  When  a  man  admits  to  himself  that  he 
has  summed  up  all  a  woman's  charms,  then  be  sure 
affection  begins  to  wane ;  for  where  there  is  love  the 
lover  is  constantly  discovering  new  charms,  and,  in 
fact,  even  those  he  has  known  are  ever  new  to  him. 

Sinclair  was  weary.  The  prospect  of  his  marriage 
appalled  him.  Even  the  beauty  of  the  country,  in 
which  he  had  hitherto  taken  such  great  delight, 
ceased  to  interest  him.  It  was  replete  with  sadness 
now.  The  girl's  departure  was  an  unconscious 
respite  and  relief  to  him. 

After  they  had  left  he  threw  himself  into  the 
actual  joy  of  living,  which  life  in  Japan  always 
suggests.  He  succumbed  to  the  dole e  far  niente  of 
the  atmosphere,  went  out  into  the  country,  with  his 
Japanese  interpreter  and  office  boy,  and  even  on  two 
or  three  occasions  visited  the  tea-houses  and  frivolled 


i 


138 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


away  a  few  dreamy  hours  with  the  light-hearted 
geishas. 

Often  he  and  an  English  traveler  named  Taylor 
would  find  a  quiet  spot  on  the  Hayama,  where  they 
would  spend  the  entire  day  fishing,  a  favorite  pas- 
time of  Sinclair's.  Shiku  would  accompany  them, 
carrying  their  rods  and  the  Englishman's  sketching 
apparatus,  for  in  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  fashion  Taylor 
was  quite  a  clever  artist,  though  he  painted  almost 
entirely  for  his  own  pleasure.  He  would  often 
desert  the  rod  for  the  brush  and  leave  Sinclair  to 
fish  alone,  while  he  tried  to  reproduce  parts  of  the 
exquisite,  incomparable  landscape;  for,  as  some 
clever  Japanese  poet  has  described  the  scenery  in 
Japan,  it  consists  of  "precious  jewels  in  little  cas- 
kets," and  that  within  the  vicinity  of  Fuji-Yama, 
from  many  points  of  which  a  distant  view  of  the 
peerless  mountain  can  be  seen,  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  the  lovely  spots  in  Japan. 

Taylor  was  of  an  uncommunicative,  reticent 
nature, — strong  and  staunch.  Between  the  two  men 
an  inexplicable  friendship  had  sprung  up,  one  that 
partook  of  no  confidence  betwixt  them,  but  showed 
itself  simply  in  the  pleasure  they  took  in  being 
together. 


THOSE  BAD  JINRIKISHA  MEN. 


139 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THOSE   BAD  JINRIKISHA  MEN. 

One  balmy  day  in  June,  when  the  woods  were  so 
still  that  scarce  a  leaf  stirred  on  the  branches  of  the 
trees  that  shaded  a  spot  along  the  Hayama  where  the 
two  friends  were  fishing  and  smoking  together,  they 
were  aroused  from  a  pleasing  silence  by  voices  on 
the  road  which  ran  curving  along  the  river  bank 
only  a  short  distance  from  where  they  sat.  They 
were  women's  voices,  and  they  were  raised  in  pro- 
test. The  Englishman  lazily  puffed  on  at  his  pipe, 
saying  laconically : 

"vSome  damned  jinrikisha  man,  I  suppose.     Got  a 
nasty  habit,  some  of  them,  of  demanding  extra  fare 
of  women  when  they  get  them  well  on  the  road,  and 
then,    if  they  don't  pay,    won't    carry   them    any 
further." 
The  American  turned  to  Shiku : 
"Go  and  see  what  you  can  do,  Shiku." 
Shiku  ran  lithely  through  the   small   bush   that 
separated  them  from   the  road.     After  a  time  he 
came  back,  his  face  flushed  and  indignant. 

"The  lady  has  forgot  to  bring  more  money 
than  the  fare,  and  now  the  runners  will  charge 
more. " 

Sinclair  stopped  watching  the  line  at  the  end  of 
his  rod.     He  put  his  hand  carelessly  into  his  trousers 


I 


140 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


pocket,  pulling  out  a  handful  of  small  change. 
"How  much  is  it,  Shiku?" 

"Fifteen  sen." 

"Here  you  are." 

"Wait  .  loment,"  said  the  Englishman,  slowly, 
pulling  in  his  line.  "I'll  just  step  over  with  you, 
and  punch  his  head  for  him." 

Sinclair  smiled  to  himself  as  he  watched  his  tall, 
strong  figure  disappear  among  the  trees.  As  he  did 
not  return  for  some  time,  Sinclair  also  drew  in  his 
line,  and  sauntered  toward  the  road.  Taylor  was 
not  bullying  the  runners.  Instead,  he  was  listening 
very  attentively  to  the  little  Japanese  women  in  the 
jinrikisha,  who  seemed  tearful  and  excited.  As 
Sinclair  came  nearer  to  them  he  caught  what  one  of 
them  was  saying: 

"An'  I  bring  no  more  moaneys. "  The  halting 
English  struck  him  with  a  pleased  ring  of  familiar- 
ity. He  turned  sharply  to  look  at  her  face.  It  was 
Nume ! 


THOSE  GOOD  JINRIKISHA  MEN. 


141 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 


THOSE   GOOD  JINRIKISHA  MEN. 

It  did  not  take  Sinclair  long  to  learn  the  source  of 
her  trouble.  It  seems  she  and  Koto  had  been  mak- 
ing trips  to  Tokyo,  and  had  made  special  arrange- 
ments with  a  jinrikisha  man  to  take  them  for  so 
much  per  week.  Unfortunately,  two  new  runners 
had  been  given  to  them  that  day.  Like  the  rest  of 
their  class,  they  were  unscrupulous  and,  conse- 
quently, as  soon  as  they  were  in  a  portion  of  the 
road  from  which  the  girls  could  not  attempt  either 
to  walk  to  the  city  or  to  their  home,  they  had 
stopped  to  demand  extra  fare.  This  the  girls  could 
not  pay  them,  having  no  more  with  them.  There- 
upon the  runners  had  refused  to  carry  them  farther. 
It  was  in  this  pitiful  plight  the  two  men  had  found 
them. 

Sinclair  reprimanded  the  men  very  severely, 
threatening  to  report  them  to  the  police,  as  soon  as 
he  returned  to  Tokyo.  He  could  not  be  too  harsh, 
however,  because  at  heart  he  was  thanking  them  for 
giving  him  this  happy  chance  to  see  Nume  again. 

How  pretty  she  looked  in  the  soft  kimona!  He 
had  only  seen  her  in  conventional  American  evening 
dress.  It  had  seemed  to  him,  then,  wonderfully 
lovely  and  suited  to  her ;  now  he  thought  it  incon- 
gruous when  compared  to  the  Japanese  gown  on  her. 
10 


142 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


;i 


I 


i! 


•'You  must  have  been  awfully  frightened,"  he 
said;  ''better  stop  a  while  until  you  are  composed;" 
then,  as  the  girls  hesitated,  "I'll  fix  it  all  right  with 
the  runners."  He  did  so,  and  soon  all  wf  n  good 
humor.  As  for  Numfe  and  Koto,  the^  .atepped 
daintily,  almost  fearfully,  from  the  jinrikisha,  and 
followed  the  two  men  to  the  pretty  shaded  spot, 
leaving  the  jinrikisha  men  with  their  vehicles  to  take 
care  of  themselves. 

Sinclair  noticed  that  the  Englishman  seemed  to 
know  Numb.  He  addressed  her  as  Miss  Watanabe, 
and  inquired  after  Mrs.  Davis. 

"You  have  met  before,  I  see,"  he  remarked. 

"Ess,"  the  girl  smiled;  and  Taylor  repeated  the 
incident  of  how  he  had  spoken  to  her  father  of  the 
girl's  beauty. 

"Did  I  offend  you?"  he  asked  the  girl. 

"Ess." 

Both  Sinclair  and  Taylor  laughed  heartily  at  her 
assent,  and  the  two  girls  joined  in,  scarcely  knowing 
what  they  were  laughing  at,  but  feeling  strangely 
happy  and  free. 

Numb  called  their  attention  to  Koto,  telling  them 
she  was  her  friend  and  maid.  Sinclair  recognized 
the  girl  almost  immediately  as  she  smiled  at  him. 

"And  so  you  have  been  making  almost  daily  trips 
to  Tokyo?"  he  said,  wondering  at  the  girl's  skill  in 
evading  detection. 

"Ess — we  become  so  lonely.'' 

"Well,  it's  a  jolly  shame  to  shut  you  up  like  they 
do  the  women  here,"  Taylor  said,  with  a  vivid 
memory  of  how  the  girl  had  been  kept  under  such 


THOSE  GOOD  JINRIKISHA  MEN.  143 

rigid  seclusion  after  his  conversation  with  her  father. 
Taylor  began  fumbling  with  his  sketching  tools. 

"Will  you  let  me  paint  you,  Miss  Numb?"  he 
asked.  "I'll  make  the  sky  a  vivid  blue  behind  you, 
and  paint  you  like  a  bright  tropic  flower  standing 
out  against  it. ' ' 

The  girl  looked  at  Sinclair  standing  behind  Tay- 
lor.    He  shook  his  head  at  her. 

"No,"  she  said,  with  exaggerated  dignity,  "Numb 
does  not  wish  to  be  painted. ' ' 

"Well,  what  about  Koto?" 

Koto  nodded  her  head  in  undisguised  pleasure  at 
the  prospect. 


144 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


f 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
DISPROVING  A  PROVERB. 

While  Taylor  sketched  Koto,  Sinclair  and  Numb 
wandered  away  from  them,  and  finding  a  pretty 
shady  spot  sat  down  together.  The  girl  was 
strangely  shy,  though  she  did  not  pretend  to  hide 
the  artless  pleasure  she  had  in  seeing  him  again. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  all 
these  days,  Num^?" 

"Nosing." 

"I  thought  you  had  been  making  sly  trips  to 
Tokyo?" 

"I  was  so  lonely^'*  the  girl  said,  sadly. 

' '  You  ought  to  be  very  happy  now — now  that  your 
marriage  is  assured.  * ' 

"Nume  is  nod  always  habby, "  she  answered, 
wistfully.  "Sometimes  I  tell  Mrs.  Davees  I  am  nod 
vaery,  vaery  habby,  an'  she  laf  at  me,  tell  me  I 
donno  how  habby  I  am. " 

"But  why  are  you  not  always  happy?" 

"I  don't  to  understand.  I  thing'  thad  I  want 
to — "  she  looked  Sinclair  in  the  face  with 
serious,  wistful  eyes — "I  thing'  I  want  to  be  luf," 
she  said. 

Sinclair  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  head  in  a  tor- 
rent at  this  strange,  ingenuous  confession.  The 
girl's  sweet  face  fascinated  him  strangely.     He  had 


DISPROVING  A  PROVERB. 


145 


thought  of  her  constantly  ever  since  he  had  met  her. 
With  her  strange,  foreign,  half-wild  beauty,  she 
awakened  in  him  all  the  slumbering  passion  of  his 
nature,  and  at  the  same  time,  because  of  her  sweet- 
ness, innocence  and  purity  of  heart,  a  finer  sense  of 
chivalry  than  he  had  ever  felt  before— a  wish  to 
protect  her. 

"You  do  not  need  to  wish  to  be  loved,  Nume — 
every  one  who  knows  you  must  love  you." 

"Koto  luf  me,"  she  said,  "tha's  all.  My  fadder 
vacry  proud  of  me  sometimes,  an'  thad  I  marry 
withOrito;  Orito  luf  me  a  liddle,  liddle  bit— Mrs. 

Davees— vaery  good  friend— you "  she  paused, 

looking  at  him  questioningly.  Then  she  added, 
shyly : 

"You  are  I'acry  good  friend  too,  I  thing'." 

Sinclair  had  forgotten  everything  save  the  witch- 
ing beauty  of  the  girl  at  his  side.  She  continued 
speaking  to  him : 

"Are  you  habby,  too?"  she  asked. 

' '  Sometimes,  Nume ;  not  always. ' ' 

"Mrs.  Davees  tell  me  thad  you  luf  the  pretty 
Americazan  lady  all  with  your  heart,  an'  thad  you 
marry  with  her  soon,  so  Nume  thing'  you  mits'  be 
vaery  habby. ' ' 

Sinclair  made  a  nervous  gesture,  but  he  did  not 
answer  Nume.     After  a  while  he  said : 

"Nume,  one  does  not  always  love  where  one 
marries." 

"No — in  Japan  naever,  bud  Mrs.  Davees  say 
nearly  always  always  in  America." 

"Mrs.  Davis  is  wrong  this  time,  Nume." 


: 


146 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


About  a  half  hour  later  he  heard  Taylor  calling  to 
them. 

"Numfe,"  he  said,  as  he  helped  her  rise  to  her 
feet,  "I  know  a  pretty  spot  on  the  river  not  far  from 
your  home.  Won't  you  and  Koto  come  there 
instead  of  going  all  the  way  to  Tokyo?" 

The  girl  nodded  her  head.  As  they  started  up  the 
hill  she  said:  "Mrs,  Davees  tell  me  not  to  say  too 
much  to  you. ' ' 

"Don't  put  any  bar  on  your  speech,  Nume. 
There  is  nothing  you  may  not  say;"  he  paused, 
"but — er — perhaps  you  had  better  not  say  anything 
to  her  about  our  meeting." 

He  was  strangely  abstracted  as  he  and  Taylor 
trudged  back  to  their  hotel.  The  Englishman 
glanced  at  him  sideways. 

"Nice  little  girl,  that— Num^-san." 

Taylor  stopped  in  the  walk  to  knock  the  ash  from 
his  pipe  against  a  huge  oak  tree. 

"Hope  she  is  not  like  the  rest  of  them." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Ah — well,  don't  you  know — lots  of  fire  and  all 
that — but  as  for  heart — ever  hear  the  old  saying:  'A 
Japanese  flower  has  no  smell,  and  a  Japanese  woman 
no  heart'?" 

The  perfume-laden  blossoms  and  flowers  about 
them  stole  their  sweetness  into  his  nostrils  even  as 
he  spoke.     Perhaps  Sinclair  recognized  this. 

"It  is  doubtless  as  untrue  of  the  woman  as  the 
flower.  Ah — pretty  good  smelling  flowers  those 
over  there,  eh?"  He  plucked  a  couple  of  wild 
flowers  that  resembled  the  pink. 


DISPROVING  A  PROVERB. 


147 


"Well,  I  guess  the  poet — or — fool — who  said  that 
alluded  only  to  the  national  flower — the  chrysan- 
themum," Taylor  said. 

"Apparently — yes;  he  was  a  fool; — didn't  know 
what  he  was  talking  about. ' ' 


i 


I 


148 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 


LOVE! 


Summer  in  the  woods — summer  in  Japan!  Ah! 
the  poet  Hitomaru  sang  truly  over  a  thousand  years 
ago,  when  he  said:  "Japan  is  not  a  land  where  men 
need  pray,  for  'tis  itself  divine."  It  seemed  as  if 
the  Creator  had  expended  all  the  wealth  of  his  pas- 
sion and  soul  in  the  making  of  Nippon  (Japan)  the 
land  of  beauty.  It  pulsated  with  a  warm,  wild, 
luxuriant  beauty;  the  sun  seemed  to  shine  more 
broadly  over  that  fair  island,  kissed  and  bathed  it 
in  a  perpetual  glow  until  the  skies  and  the  waters, 
which  in  their  clearness  mirrored  its  glory,  became 
as  huge  rainbows  of  ever-changing  and  brilliant 
colors.  Color  is  surely  contagious;  for  the  wild 
birds,  that  sang  delirioiisly,  wore  coats  that  dazzled 
the  eye ;  the  grass  and  flowers,  the  trees  and  blos- 
soms were  tinged  with  a  beauty  found  nowhere  else 
on  earth;  and  even  the  human  inhabitants  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  Color  Queen  and  fashioned  their 
garments  to  harmonize  with  their  surroundings. 
So,  also,  the  artists  of  Japan  painted  pictures  that 
had  no  shadows,  and  the  people  built  their  houses 
and  colored  them  in  accord  with  nature. 

What  spirit  of  romance  and  enchantment  lurked 
in  every  woodland  path,  every  rippling  brook  or 
stream!     Sinclair  was  intoxicated  with  the  beauty 


LOVE! 


149 


of  the  country.  It  is  true  he  had  lived  there  nearly 
three  years  now,  but  never  had  it  struck  him  as 
being  so  gloriously  lovely.  Why  was  there  an  added 
charm  and  beauty  to  all  things  in  life?  Why  was 
there  music  even  in  the  drone  of  the  crickets  in  the 
grass?  Sinclair  was  in  love!  Love,  the  great 
beautifier,  had  crept  into  his  heart,  unseen.  Nume 
knew  it — knew  that  Sinclair  loved  her.  From  the 
first  he  had  never  even  tried  to  battle  against  the 
growing  love  for  Nume  which  was  consuming  him, 
so  that  he  thought  of  nothing  else,  night  or  day.  His 
letters  to  Cleo  Ballard  grew  wandering  and  nervous, 
or  he  did  not  write  at  all  to  her.  He  would  neglect 
official  business  to  meet  Nume  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hayama,  and  spend  whole  days  in  her  company, 
with  no  one  by  them  save  the  wee  things  of  nature, 
and  within  call  of  Koto  and  Shiku.  Neither  did 
Numfe  struggle  against  or  make  any  resistance. 
With  all  the  force  of  her  intense  nature  she  returned 
his  love.  And  it  was  the  awakening  of  this  love  in 
her  that  had  taught  her  to  be  discreet.  She  had 
taken  the  lesson  well  to  heart  that  Mrs.  Davis  had 
taught  her — to  tell  no  man  she  loved  him  even  if  .she 
did  love  him. 

"Orito  is  coming  home  neg's  weeg,"  she  told  him 
one  morning. 

Sinclair  drew  his  breath  in  sharply. 

"It  will  mean,  then,  the  end  of  our — our  happy 
days  in  the  woods. ' ' 

Num^  was  feeling  perverse.     Why  did  not  Mr. 
Sinka  tell  her  he  cared  for  her — did  he  love  the 
beautiful  American  lady  more  than  he  did  her? 
11 


15° 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Oh,  no — ?tot  the  end,  Mr.  Sinka,"  she  said;  and 
added,  cruelly,  "Orito  can  come,  too." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  seemed  to  trifle 
with  him.  Hitherto  she  had  always  been  so  gentle 
and  lovable.  He  felt  a  pain  at  his  heart,  and  his 
eyes  were  quite  stern  and  contracted. 

"Numb,"  he  said,  almost  harshly,  "you — you 
surely  hold  our  meetings  more  sacred  than  that. 
You  know  they  would  lose  their  essence  of  happi- 
ness and  freedom,  with  the  intrusion  of  a  third 
party. ' ' 

The  girl  was  filled  with  remorse,  in  an  instant. 

"Ess,  Mr.  Sinka,"  she  said.  "Please  forgive  bad 
Numb." 

"Forgive  you.  Numb!"  He  turned  his  eyes 
reluctantly  from  the  girl's  flushed  face.  "Oh!  little 
witch,"  he  whispered,  holding  her  hands  with  a 
passionate  fierceness.  "You  tempt  me  so— tempt 
me  to  forget  everything  save  that  I  am  with  you." 

She  let  her  hands  rest  in  his  a  moment.  Then  she 
withdrew  them  and  rose  to  her  feet  restlessly.  Sin- 
clair rose  also,  looking  at  her  with  yearning  in  his 
face. 

"Why  do  you  speag  lig'  thad,  Mr.  Sinka?"  she 
asked. 

"Numb,  Numb,  don't  you  understand — don't  you 
know?" 

"No!  Numb  does  not  onderstand  Americazan. 
Mrs.  Davees  tell  me  thad  the  Americazan  genleman 
mag'  luf  to  poor  liddle  Japanese  women,  but  he  nod 
really  luf — only  laf  at  her. ' ' 

A  cold  anger  crept  over  Sinclair. 


LOVE! 


151 


"So  she  has  been  telling  you  some  more  yarns?" 

"No;  she  telling  thad  yarns  long,  long  time  ago." 

He  recovered  himself  with  an  effort. 

"I  won't  make  love  to  you,  Numb,"  he  said, 
bitterly.     "You  need  not  fear. " 

In  his  misery  at  his  helplessness  and  inability  to 
tell  the  girl  how  much  he  loved  and  wanted  her,  he 
was  doubting  her, — wondering  whether  it  were 
indeed  the  truth  that  a  Japanese  woman  had  no 
heart.  A  feeling  of  utter  misery  came  over  him  as 
he  thought  that  perhaps  Nume  had  been  only  play- 
ing with  him,  that  her  shy,  seeming  pleasure  in 
being  with  him  was  all  assumed.  He  looked  down 
at  the  girl  beside  him.  Perhaps  she  felt  that  look. 
She  raised  her  little  head  and  smiled  at  him,  smiled 
confidently,  almost  lovingly.     His  doubts  vanished. 

"Nume— Numfe!"  was  all  he  said;  but  he  kissed 
her  little  hands  at  parting  [with  a  vehemence  and 
passion  he  had  never  known. 


in 


) 


1  i 


152 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XL. 
A   PASSIONATE   DECLARATION. 

"Koto,"  Nume  said  that  night,  as  the  maid 
brushed  her  hair  till  it  shone  bright  and  glossy  as 
the  shining  jade-stone  she  placed  before  the  huge 
Buddha  when  she  visited  the  Kawnnon  temple, 
"Mr.  Sinkaluf  me." 

"I  know,"  the  other  said,  quite  complacently,  and 
as  though  she  had  never  had  even  the  smallest  doubt 
about  it. 

"Why,  Koto,"  Nume  turned  around  in  surprise, 
"how  do  you  know?" 

"Shiku  tell  me  first.  He  say  always  the  august 
consul  carry  with  him  the  flowers  you  give  him,  and 
he  leave  his  big  work  for  to  come  and  see  you." 

Nume  smiled  happily. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  love  me  forever,  Koto?" 

"Ah,  no!"  Koto  answered,  elaborately;  "because 
the  august  consul  is  to  marry  with  the  honorably 
august  American  woman  in  two  months  now,  and  of 
course  he  love  only  his  wife  then. ' ' 

This  answer  displeased  Nume.  She  spoke  quite 
sharply  to  Koto.  "But  he  tells  me  love  never  dies; 
that  when  he  will  love  somebody  he  love  her  only 
forever." 

Koto  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Americans  are  very  funny.  I  do  not  understand 
them." 


A  PASSIONATE  DECLARATION.  153 

The  next  day  Numfe  asked  Sinclair  whether  he 
thought  it  possible  for  one  who  was  married  to  love 
any  one  else  besides  his  wife. 

"Yes,  Nume,  it  is  possible,"  he  said. 

Then  an  idea  struck  him  that  she  was  thinking  of 
her  own  case  and  her  approaching  marriage  to 
Orito. 

"I  don't  believe  in  such  marriages,"  he  said.  "I 
would  despise  a  woman  who  loved  one  man  and  mar- 
ried another."     Nume  smiled  sadly. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sinka,  that's  vacry  mos'  sad  thad  you 
despising  poor  liddle  womans.  Will  you  despise  also 
grade  big  mans  who  do  same  thing?" 

Then  Sinclair  comprehended.  His  face  was  quite 
haggard. 

"Oh,  Nume,  Nume-san,"  he  almost  groaned, 
"what  can  I  do?"  The  girl  was  silent,  waiting  for 
his  confidence. 

"You  understand,  Nume,  don't  you— understand 
that  I  love  you?" 

The  girl  quivered  with  his  passion,  for  a  moment, 
then  she  stood  still  in  the  path,  a  quiet,  question' 
ing,  almost  accusing,  little  figure. 

"But  soon  you  will  marry  with  the  red-haired 
lady,"  she  said. 

"No!  I  cannot!"  he  burst  out,  passionately.  "I 
won't  give  you  up!  Nume,  I— I  will  try  to  free 
myself.  It  must  not  be,  now.  It  would  be  wrong- 
ing all  of  us.  Sweetheart,  I  never  cared  for  her.  I 
never  loved  any  one  in  the  world  but  you,  and  I 
think  I  loved  you  even  that  first  night.  I  will  tell 
her  all  about  it,  Numfe.     She  is  a  good  woman,  and 


V 


^54 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Di 


will  give  me  my  freedom.  Then  she  will  go  back 
to  America,  and  we  will  be  married  and  be  together 
here — in  this  garden  of  Eden."  He  was  holding 
her  little  hands  in  his  now,  and  looking  into  her 
face  hungrily. 

"Think  of  it,  Nume,"  he  repeated;  "only  you  and 
I  together — always  together — no  more  parting  at  the 
turn  of  the  road — no  more  long,  long  nights  alone. 
Oh!  Num^!  Num^!" 

"But  Orito?"  she  said,  with  pitiful  pain.  "Ah! 
my  father  would  surely  kill  me.  You  dunno  my 
people." 

"Yes,  I  do,  sweetheart.  You  must  tell  them— 
they  will  forgive  in  time — promise  me,  Num^ — 
sweetheart. ' ' 

He  drew  her  towards  him,  but  the  girl  still  held 
back. 

"Wait,"  she  cried,  almost  in  terror.  "We  jfiNs' 
be  sure  firs'  t/iac^  my  father,  t/iad  Orito  will  not  kill- 
ing me." 

"Kill  you!"  the  man  scoffed  at  the  idea. 

"Bud  Num^  is  afraid,"  she  persisted,  and  pulled 
her  little  hands  desperately  from  his.  She  ran  a 
little  way  from  him,  a  sudden  feelin j  of  shyness  and 
terror  possessing  her. 

"Koto!"  she  called. 

At  the  bend  of  the  road  where  they  were  wont  to 
part  Sinclair  helped  her  into  the  waiting  jinrikisha. 
Her  little  hand  rested  against  his  sleeve  for  a 
moment.  She  was  not  afraid  now — now  that  Koto 
was  with  her,  and  the  runners  were  watching  them. 
She  was  not  afraid  to  let  him  read  her  little  heart 


A  PASSIONATE  DECLARATION. 


155 


now.  Such  a  look  of  tenderness  and  love  and  pas- 
sion was  in  her  small  flower  face  as  filled  Sinclair 
with  a  wild  elation. 

"My  little  passion   flower,"   he   whispered,    and 
bending  kissed  her  little  hand  fervently. 


156 


XIISS  NUME  OK  JAPAN. 


I 


; 


CHAPTER    XLI. 
A  HARD  SUBJECT   TO   HANDLE. 

When  the  girls  reached  their  home  that  afternoon 
they  found  Mrs.  Davis  waiting  for  them.  Num^, 
who  thrilled  with  a  joy  she  herself  could  not  compre- 
hend, ran  to  her,  and  putting  her  arms  about  her 
neck,  clung  with  a  sudden  passion  to  her. 

"Oh,  Numb  is  so  habby, "  she  said. 

Mrs.  Davis  imdid  the  clinging  arms,  and  looked 
the  girl  in  the  face.  Then  Nunie  noticed  for  the 
first  time  that  the  American  lady  was  unusually 
silent,  and  seemed  almost  offended  about  something. 
Nume  tried  to  shake  off  the  loving  mood  that  still 
lingered  with  her,  for  where  one  is  in  love  there 
is  a  desire  to  caress  and  shower  blessings  every- 
where, and  on  all  living  creatures.  So  it  was  with 
Num^. 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Nume  dear, 
Mrs.  Davis,  said,   gravely ;  and  then  turning  coldly 
to  Koto  she  added,  "No,  not  even  Koto  mast  stay." 
The  little  maid  left  them  together. 

"Numb,  how  could  you  be  so  sly?" 

"Sly!"  the  girl  was  startled. 

"Yes — to  think  that  all  these  ck.s  en  on 
have  been  pretending  to  be  alone  itli  Koto  in  the 
woods,  you  have  been  meeting  Mr.  Sine!  .ir. " 

The  girl  turned  on  her  defiantly. 


A  HARD  SUBJECT  TO  liANDLE. 


157 


"I  nod  telling  you  account  tha's  nod  business  for 
you." 

"Well,  Numb!" 

"I  getting  vaery  lonely,  and  meeting  only  by  acci- 
dent with  Mr.  Sinka. " 

"Does  your  father  know?"  the  other  atikcd, 
relentlessly. 

The  girl  approached  her  with  terror.  "No!  Oh, 
Mrs.  Davees,  don't  tell  yet."  After  a  time  she 
asked  her:  "How  did  j^«  know?" 

"I  learned  it  by  accident  through  a  clerk  at  the 
consulate.  How  he  knows — and  how  many  others 
know  of  it,  I  cannot  say."  She  almost  wrung  her 
hands  in  her  distress.  She  saw  it  was  no  use  being 
angry  with  Nume,  and  that  she  might  do  more  by 
being  patient  with  her.  She  had  learned  merely  the 
fact  of  Sinclair's  being  in  the  woods  each  day  with 
a  Japanese  girl.  This  had  vset  her  to  thinking; 
Koto's  and  Numb's  long  absences  in  the  country 
each  day — a  few  questions  and  a  handful  of  sen  to 
the  runners  who  had  been  loitering  in  her  vicinity 
for  some  days  now  with  their  vehicles,  and  she  soon 
knew  the  truth. 

Just  how  far  things  had  gone  between  Sinclair  and 

Numb   she   must   find  out   from   the  girl    herself, 

though  she  was  not  prepared  to  trust  her  completely 

when  she  realized  how  Numb  had  deceived  her  all 

these  weeks.     She  was  determined  to  help  Cleo,  and 

felt  almost  guilty  when  she  remembered  that  she 

had  urged  the  girl  to  make  the  trip  which  might 

result  in  so  much  disaster  to  her,  for  Jenny  Davis 

knew  Cleo  Ballard    well  enough  to  know  that  it 
11 


\\\ 


T 


158 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


■ 


ca  ii- 


would  break  her  heart  to  give  Sinclair  up  now,  after 
all  the  years  she  had  waited  for  him. 

"Num^,"  she  said,  quite  sadly,  "don't  look  at  me 
so  resentfully.  I  want  only  to  do  my  duty  by  you 
and  my  friend.  Let  me  be  your  friend.  Oh  I 
Numb,  if  you  had  confided  in  me  we  could  have 
avoided  all  this. ' ' 

Nume  had  a  tender  spot  in  her  heart  for  Mrs. 
Davis,  who  had  always  been  so  good  to  her. 

''Forgive  Nume,"  she  said,  impulsively,  and  for  a 
moment  the  two  women  clung  together,  the  Amer- 
ican woman  almost  forgetting,  for  the  moment, 
everything  save  the  girl's  sweet  spontaneity  and 
impulsiveness.  Then  she  pulled  herself  together, 
remembering  Cleo. 

"Nume,  tell  me  just  what — just  how — all  about 
the — the  meetings  with  Mr.  Sinclair." 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  flushed  and  rebellious. 

"Me?  I  nod  tell.  Mr.  vSinka  tell  me — all  too 
saked. '  * 

Mrs.  Davis  caught  her  breath. 

"He  told  you — told  you  the — the — meetings  were 
sacred?" 

Nume  nodded : 

"Ess." 

"Then  he  is  not  an  honorable  man,  Nume. 
because  he  is  betrothed  to  another  woman. ' ' 

"Bud  he  writing  her  to  breag',"  the  girl  said. 


triumphantly. 
"He    write 
about?     Are 
write — what?" 


to — Nume,    what     are    you    talking' 
you    conscienceless?      When    did   he 


A  HARD  SUBJECT  TO  HANDLE.  159 

"He  say  he  writing  soon,  and  I  telling  Orito,  too. " 
The  girl's  complacency  cut  Mrs.  Davis  to  the 
quick.  She  forgot  ai]  about  Cleo's  flirtations.  She 
remembered  only  that  Cleo  was  her  dearest  friend- 
that  this  strange  Japanese  girl  might  cause  her 
immeasurable  trouble  and  pain,  and  that  she  must 
do  something  to  prevent  it. 

''Num^,  you  can't  really  care  for— for  Sinclair." 
''Ess— I  luf,"  the  girl  interrupted,  softly. 
"Come  and  sit  at  my  knee,  Num^,  like— like  you 
used  to  do.  So!  now  I  will  tell  you  a  little  story. 
How  hot  your  little  head  is— you  are  tired?  No? 
Oh,  Num^,  Nume,  you  have  been  a  very  foolish- 
very  cruel  little  girl."  Nevertheless,  she  bent  and 
kissed  the  wistful  upturned  face. 


i6o 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 


A  STORY. 


1 1 


"Once  there  was  a  young  girl,"  Mrs.  Davis 
began,  "who  was  born  in  a  beautiful  city  away 
across  the  seas.  She  was  just  as  beautiful  and  good 
— as — as  you  are,  Numb.  But,  although  the  city 
was  very  beautiful  in  which  she  lived,  she  had  very 
little  in  her  life  to  make  her  happy.  She  lived  all 
alone  in  a  house  so  big  that  the  halls  and  stairways 
were  as  long  as — as  the  pagodas.  She  seldom  saw 
her  father  because  he  was  always  away  traveling, 
and,  besides,  he  did  not  love  children  much.  Her 
mother  was  always  sick,  and  when  the  little  girl 
came  near  her  she  would  fret  and  worry,  and  say 
that  the  little  girl  made  her  nervous.  So  she  grew 
up  very,  very  hungry  for  some  one  to  love  her. 
After  a  time,  when  she  became  a  beautiful  young 
lady,  many  men  thought  they  loved  her;  but  she 
had  grown  so  used  to  not  loving,  and  to  not  being 
loved  by  any  one,  that  she  never  could  care  for  any 
of  them.  At  last  there  came  one  man  who  seemed 
different  to  her  from  all  the  others.  And,  Num^,  he 
fell  in  love  with  her — and  she  loved  him.  Oh !  you 
don't  know  how  much  they  loved  each  other.  They 
were  with  each  other  constantly,  and,  and, — are  yoii 
tired?"  she  interrupted  herself  to  ask  the  girl,  who 
had  moved  restlessly. 

"No." 


A  STORY. 


i6i 


"Well,  Numfe,  then  her  lover,  that  she  loved  so 
much  you  would  have  cried  to  have  seen  her,  went 
far,  far  away  from  her  to  take  a  fine  position,  and 
he  promised  her  faithfully  that  he  would  love  only 
her,  and  would  send  for  her  soon.  So  the  girl 
waited.  But  he  did  not  send  for  her  soon,  Num^. 
He  kept  putting  off  and  putting  off— till  three  long 
years  had  passed;  and  all  this  time  she  had  been 
true  to  him— waiting  for  him  only  to  say  the  word 
to  come.  Then,  at  last,  he  wrote  to  her,  asking  her 
to  come  to  him  all  the  way  across  the  seas— thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  miles,  and  she  left  her  beau- 
tiful home,  and  came  with  her  sick  mother  to  join 
him." 

Nume's  eyes  were  fastened  on  her  face  with  a  look 
of  intense  interest. 

"Ess?"  she  said,  as  the  American  lady  paused. 

"When  she  reached  him  she  found  he  had 
changed— though  she  had  not.  He  was  cold,  and 
always  bored;  kind  to  her  at  times,  and  indifferent 
at  others.  Still,  she  loved  him  so  much  she  forgave 
him,  and  was  so  sweet  and  gentle  to  him  that  even 
he  began  to  melt  and  began  to  be  kinder  to  her,  and 
all,  Numb,  would  have  turned  out  happily,  and  he 
would    have    loved    her  as  he  used  to,  only— only 

"  she  paused  in  her  story.     She  had  exaggerated 

and  drawn  on  her  imagination  strongly  in  order  to 
make  an  impression  on  Numb;  for  she  knew  the 
girl's  weakness  lay  in  her  tender  heart. 

"C'w/ywhad,  Mrs.  Davees?" 

"Numb— the  girl  was  Miss  Ballard— the  man  Mr. 
Sinclair.      Oh,   Nume,  you  don't  want  to  separate 


I  l><' 


:t:l 


162 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


them  now  after  all  these  years.  Think  how  cruel  it 
would  be.     It  would  kill  her,  and " 

Num^  had  risen  to  her  feet.  She  looked  out  at 
the  burning  blaze  of  the  oriental  landscape,  the  end- 
less blue  of  the  fields — at  the  misty  mountains  in  the 
distance.  She  was  trying  to  reason.  The  first  real 
trouble  of  her  life  had  come  to  her.  She  thought  of 
all  to  whom  she  would  bring  sorrow  should  she  yield 
to  Sinclair;  of  the  two  old  fathers,  for  she  knew 
nothing  as  yet  of  what  Onto  had  told  them.  She 
thought  of  the  beautiful  American  girl,  and  remem- 
bered the  look  on  her  face  that  night  of  the  ball. 
She  wondered  how  she  would  have  felt  in  her  place. 
Her  voice  was  quite  subdued  and  hushed  as  she 
turned  to  Mrs.  Davis. 

"Numb  will  marry  only  Orito,"  she  said.  "Numb 
will  tell  Mr.  Sinkaso." 

The  other  woman  put  her  arms  around  the  girl 
and  attempted  to  draw  her  to  her  with  the  old  affec- 
tion ;  but  Numb  shrank  strangely  from  her,  and  per- 
haps half  the  pleasure  at  her  success  was  lost  as  Mrs. 
Davis  saw  the  look  of  mute  suffering  in  the  girl's 
face. 


THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  PROVERB. 


163 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 
THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  PROVERB. 

It  was  with  a  heart  full  of  yearning  and  love  that 
Sinclair  waited  for  Num6  the  next  day.  She  was 
late ;  or  was  it  that  that  last  look  of  hers  had  turned 
his  head  so  that  he  had  come  earlier  than  usual  to 
the  spot,  unable  to  wait  the  appointed  time? 

He  found  himself  planning  their  future  together. 
How  he  would  love  her — ^his  bright  tropic  flower, 
his  pure  shining  star— his  singing  bird.  Every  leaf 
that  stirred  startled  him.  He  tried  to  absorb  him- 
self in  the  beauty  of  the  country,  but  his  restless- 
ness at  her  failure  to  come  caused  him  to  go 
constantly  to  the  road  and  see  if  there  were  any 
signs  of  her. 

At  last  he  heard  the  faint,  unmistakable  beat, 
beat,  beat  of  sandaled  runners.  They  started  his 
blood  throbbing  wildly  through  his  veins.  She  was 
coming— the  woman  he  loved,  the  dear  little  woman 
who  had  told  him  she  loved  him — not  in  words — but 
with  that  last  parting,  sweet  look;  and  oh!  Num^ 
was  too  sweet,  too  genuine,  too  pure,  to  deceive. 

As  he  helped  her  from  the  jinrikisha  and  looked 
at  her  with  all  his  pent-up  longing  and  eagerness, 
she  turned  her  head  aside  with  a  constrained  look. 
Koto  stayed  close  by  her,  and  refused  to  take  any 
suggestion  from  Sinclair  to  leave  them  alone 
together. 


U 


i. 


'"'■I 


ni 


164 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Numb  began  to  talk  hastily,  and  as  though  she 
could  not  wait. 

"We  have  had  lots  of  fon,  Mr.  Sinka?" 

"Fun!— why,  Numb!" 

She  opened  her  little  fan  and  shaded  her  face  a 
moment. 

"Ess — Numb  and  all  Japanese  girl  luf  to  have  fon. ' ' 

"Nume — I  don't  like  that  word.  It  is  inappli- 
cable in  our  case. ' ' 

He  tried  to  take  her  hand  in  his,  but  it  clung  per- 
sistently to  her  fan,  while  the  other  remained  hidden 
in  the  folds  of  her  robe. 

"My  little  girl  is  quite  cross,"  he  said,  thinking 
she  was  trying  to  tease  him. 

"No!  Nume  nod  mos'  vaery  cross;"  after  a 
moment  she  added,  in  a  hard  voice:  "Nume  does 
nod  wafit  to  have  any  tnore  fon. ' '  She  clung  to  that 
word  persistently. 

"You  do  not  want  any  more  fun.  Numb!"  he 
repeated,  slowly;  "I  don't  understand  you." 

"Ess — it  is  a/l  fon,"  she  said.  "All  fon  thad  we 
pretending  to  luf. '  * 

"All  fun?"  he  echoed,  stupidly.  "What  is  all 
fun,  Nume?  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  sweetheart — 
why  so  contrary  to-day?" 

"Nosing  is  madder  'cept  that  Numb  does  nod 
wand  any  more  fon  with  you — she  tired  vaer}f  much 
of  Mr.  Sinka." 

A  silence,  tragic  in  its  feeling,  passed  between 
them. 

"What  do  you  mean.  Numb?"  He  was  still 
stupid. 


THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  PROVERB 


165 


"That  I  only  have  fon  to  pretend  that  I  luf  you — 
I  am  very  tired  now. ' ' 

A  gray  pallor  had  stolen  over  the  man's  face. 

"You — you  are  trying  to  jest  with  me,  Nume,"  he 
said  unsteadily. 

The  truth  began  to  dawn  on  him  gradually.  He 
remembered  his  doubts  of  the  former  day.  He  had 
been  deceived  in  her  after  all!  Oh!  fool  that  he 
was  to  have  trusted  her — and  now — now  he  had  not 
thought  himself  capable  of  such  fierce  love — yet  he 
loved  her  in  spite  of  her  deceit,  her  falsity. 

He  got  up  and  stood  back  a  little  way  from  her, 
leaning  against  a  tree  and  looking  down  at  her 
where  she  sat.  A  sudden  wild  sense  of  loss  swept 
over  him.  Then  his  voice  returned — it  was  muffled 
and  unfamiliar  even  to  his  own  ears. 

"Numfe!"  was  all  he  said;  but  he  stretched  his 
arms  toward  her  with  such  yearning  and  pain  that 
the  girl  rose  suddenly  and  ran  blindly  from  him. 
Koto  following.  On,  and  on,  to  where  the  jinrikisha 
was  waiting.  Koto  helped,  almost  lifted  her  bodily 
in,  and  as  the  runner  started  down  the  road,  Numfe 
put  her  head  back  against  Koto  and  quietly  fainted 
away. 

When  she  came  to  herself  she  was  in  a  high  fever. 
She  called  pitifully  for  Sinclair,  begging  Koto  to 
take  her  to  him — to  go  to  him  and  tell  him  that  she 
did  not  mean  what  she  had  said ;  that  she  was  try- 
ing to  help  Mrs.  Davis;  that  she  loved  only  him, 
and  a  thousand  other  pitiful  messages.  But  Mrs. 
Davis  had  her  carried  to  her  house  and  stood  at  her 

bedside,  invincible  as  Fate. 
12 


m 


i; 


III 


I 


i66 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Sinclair  remained  where  she  had  left  him  for  some 
time,  the  same  dazed  expression  on  his  face.  When 
the  girl  had  darted  from  the  fallen  tree  on  which 
they  had  sat,  she  had  dropped  something  in  her 
flight.  Mechanically  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up. 
It  was  a  Japanese-American  primer.  Numfe  and  he 
had  studied  out  of  it  together.  He  ground  his  teeth 
with  wild  pain,  but  he  threw  the  book  from  him  as 
if  it  had  been  poison.  He  ran  his  hand  through  his 
hair,  tried  to  think  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down  on 
the  fallen  tree,  his  face  in  his  hands. 

There  Taylor  and  Shiku  came  across  him,  sitting 
alone,  looking  out  at  the  smooth,  scintillating  waters 
of  the  Hayama. 

"Had  a  sunstroke,  old  man?"  Taylor  asked. 

"No;"  he  rose  abruptly  to  his  feet.  "I — I  was 
just  thinking,  Taylor — just  thinking — thinking  of — 
of  what  you  had  told  me  a  month  or  so  ago.  Do 
you  remember — it  was  about  Japanese  women?" 

"Er — yes,  about  them  having  no  heart.  Remem- 
ber we  decided  the  poet— or  fool,  we  called  him — 
was  wrong." 

"He  was  wrong  only  about  the  flower,  Taylor." 


NUME  BREAKS  DOWN. 


167 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 


NUME   BREAKS   DOWN. 

A  few  days  later  Orito  returned  to  Tokyo.  His 
father's  house  was  strangely  sad  and  gloomy.  On 
his  return  home  from  America  it  had  been  thrown 
open,  as  if  to  catch  every  bright  ray  of  light  and 
happiness.  Now  it  was  darkened.  Sachi  no  longer 
sat  in  the  little  garden,  but  he  and  Omi  were  indoors 
trying  to  pass  the  time  playing  a  game  which 
resembled  checkers. 

Neither  of  them  greeted  Orito  otherwise  than 
sadly,  both  of  them  letting  him  see  in  every  way 
that  he  had  wounded  them  deeply,  although  Omi 
was  a  trifle  hopeful  and  often  told  Sachi  that  he  had 
great  hopes  that  Orito  would  change  his  mind,  that 
something  would  turn  up  to  help  them.  Sachi,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  inconsolable.  Moreover,  he 
was  growing  quite  old  and  feeble,  and  this  last  dis- 
appointment seemed  to  have  stooped  his  shoulders 
and  whitened  his  hair  even  more. 

Orito  tried  to  cheer  them  up,  telling  them  of  some 
clever  business  deal  he  had  made  in  Yokohama,  by 
which  he  had  sold  a  large  tract  of  land  for  a  good 
round  sum. 

"How  is  Num^?"  he  asked. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"Quite  sick,"  he  said.     "She  grew  very  sad  and 


i 


I 


i 


1 68 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


lonely  for  a  time,  and  about  a  week  ago  she  broke 
down  when  out  with  her  maid,  and  was  carried 
to  Mrs.  Davis'  house,  where  she  has  been  ever 
since. ' ' 

"I'll  go  right  over  and  see  her,"  Orito  said,  with 
concern. 

He  found  Num^  looking  very  thin  and  wan.  She 
was  lying  on  an  English  sofa.  Koto  was  beside  her, 
singing  very  softly  as  she  played  on  her  samisen. 
Orito  paused  on  the  threshold,  listening  to  the  last 
weird,  thrilling  notes  of  the  beautiful  song,  ' '  Sayo- 
nara"  (Farev/ell). 

"It  is  indeed  very  sad  to  find  you  sick,  Nume,"  he 
said,  gently,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  kept  too  much  in  seclusion. 
Numb.   You  ought  to  go  out  more  into  the  open  air. ' ' 

Still  the  girl  smiled  silently — a  pitiful,  trembling, 
patient  smile. 

Mrs.  Davis  came  into  the  room  and  welcomed 
Orito,  trying  to  cheer  the  girl  up  at  the  same  time. 
"Now  we  will  get  better  soon,"  she  said,  pinching 
the  girl's  chin — "now  that  Orito  has  come  home." 

"Ess,"  the  girl  answered,  vaguely.  "Nume  will 
be  bedder  now." 

Koto  laid  her  face  against  the  sick  girl's,  caressing 
her  little  head  with  her  hand. 

"Your  voice  is  so  weak,  Nume-san,"  she  said. 

A  look  of  genuine  sympathy  and  affection  passed 
between  mistress  and  maid.  Koto  understood  her, 
if  no  one  else  did.  Koto  loved  her  and  would  stand 
by  her  through  thick  and  thin. 


NL'ME  BREAKS  DOWN. 


169 


Ont(j  expressed  himself  to  Mrs.  Davis  as  being 
very  shocked  to  find  Nume  so  weak  and  thin.  He 
had  not  heard  of  her  illness.  How  long  had  it 
been? 

"Only  a  few  days,"  Mrs.  Davis  told  him.  It  had 
been  very  sudden.  She  would  improve  soon,  now 
that  Orito  had  returned. 

Her  persistency  in  dwelling  on  the  fact  that  it 
depended  on  him — the  restoration  of  Num^'s 
health — irritated  Orito.  He  knew  Nume  better 
than  Mrs.  Davis  imagined ;  and  knew,  also,  that  she 
did  not  love  him  so  that  for  the  sake  of  it  she  would 
suddenly  break  down  and  become  as  white  and  frail 
as  a  lily  beaten  by  a  brutal  wind. 

Koto  talked  to  him  rapidly  in  Japanese.  She 
wanted  them  to  return  home  soon.  Neither  she  nor 
Num^  were  comfortable.  "Nume  wanted  to  be  all 
alone  with  Koto,  where  no  one — not  e\  en  the  kind 
Americans — could  intrude  until  she  should  be  better 
again." 

"I  will  carry  her  across  the  fields  now,"  Orito 
said,  and  told  Mrs.  Davis  of  his  intention  of  doing 
so.  That  lady  seemed  very  anxious  that  the  girl 
should  not  be  removed  for  several  days.  But  Num^ 
settled  the  question  by  rising  up  from  the  couch  and 
saying  she  was  perfectly  strong,  and  wanted  to 
return  home ;  that  she  would  always  be  grateful  for 
the  kindness  Mrs.  Davis  had  shown  her,  but  would 
Orito  please  take  her  home? 

The  American  lady  was  in  tears.  She  kissed  the 
girl  repeatedly  before  letting  her  go,  but  Nume  was 
too  listless  to  be  responsive. 


:' 


170 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Ever  since  that  day  when  she  had  fainted  in  the 
jinrikisha  and  had  awakened  in  a  high  fever,  Numb 
had  been  sick — ill  with  no  particular  malady,  save 
perhaps  the  strain  and  shock. 

Mrs.  Davis  had  been  very  kind  to  her,  waiting  on 
her  with  her  own  hands,  once  staying  up  all  night 
with  her.  In  fact,  she  and  Koto  had  vied  with  each 
other  in  serving  and  doing  everything  to  plea  ,j 
her,  but  Numfe  seemed  to  have  lost  interest  in 
everything.  The  only  thing  that  soothed  her  was 
for  Koto  to  sing  and  play  very  gently  to  her,  and 
this  the  little  maid  did  constantly. 


t»    y 


r  1    » 


TRYING  TO  FORGET. 


171 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


TRYING    TO    FORGET. 


/ 


^  V 


Sinclair  had  become  suddenly  attached  to  his 
work.  He  deserted  the  country  for  the  city,  remain- 
ing sometimes  quite  late  in  the  evening  in  his  office, 
attending  to  certain  matters  that  had  collected  dur- 
ing his  absences  from  the  office.  One  was  the  case 
of  an  American  missionary  who  had  been  arrested 
for  attempting  to  bribe  school  boys  to  become 
Kirishitans  (Christians).  The  charge  against  him 
was  that  he  had  caused  dissension  in  several  of  the 
public  schools  by  bribing  certain  of  the  poorer  chil- 
dren to  leave  their  schools,  and,  in  some  cases,  their 
homes,  and  attend  the  missionary  school  in  Tokyo. 
It  was  said  that  he  had  become  a  terror  to  parents 
in  the  district,  who  were  afraid  of  losing  their  chil- 
dren, for  he  generally  got  them  to  accompany  him 
by  paying  them  small  sums  of  money. 

One  deserter  who  had  been  converted  to  the 
Christian  belief  by  a  bright  silver  yen,  was  accred- 
ited with  having  told  him  after  he  had  become  a 
backslider  and  the  missionary  had  reproached  him : 
"You  pay  me  ten  more  sen  I  go  to  church — you  pay 
me  twenty  sen  I  love  Jesus. ' ' 

On  the  other  hand,  the  missionary  declared  he 
had  merely  interfered  and  protested  at  the  harsh 
treatment  Christian  children  received  at  the  hands 


A\ 


Mi 


172 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


I      I 


I  i 


of  their  playmates  in  the  schools,  and  which  he 
de  jlared  was  encouraged  by  the  teachers.  In  this 
W£  y  he  had  antagonized  some  bitter  Japanese 
agcClnst  him,  who  had  had  him  unjustly  arrested 
and  thrown  into  prison. 

The  case  was  quite  a  serious  one,  as  the  mission- 
ary was  a  well-known  man  in  America.  It  gave 
Sinclair  plenty  of  thought  and  work,  and  he  was 
untiring  in  his  endeavor  to  obtain  his  dischai-ge. 

He  had  seen  nothing  of  Numb  since  that  day  in 
the  woods,  when  she  had  told  him  she  had  never 
cared  for  him.  In  spite  of  constant  visitors  and  the 
volume  of  his  work,  which  he  tried  person  ^illy  to 
superintend  for  the  time  being,  Sinclair  could  not 
forget  Nimie.  The  moment  he  was  left  to  himself 
his  mind  would  revert  to  the  girl,  to  the  dreamy 
days  he  had  spent  with  her  in  the  woods,  to  little 
things  she  had  said  that  lingered  in  his  mind  like 
Japanese  miisic.  In  spite  of  himself  he  could  not 
hate  her.  Had  she  been  an  cidinary  woman  it 
might  have  been  different,  but  with  Nume  could  he 
cherish  anything  harshe  '  against  her  than  regret? 

He  tried  to  assure  himself  that  he  had  put  her 
from  his  mind  altogether,  that  after  all  she  was 
unworthy  of  his  pain,  but  every  incident  that  came 
up  which  reminded  him  of  her,  found  him  wander- 
ing back  to  the  dear  dead  days  he  had  spent  with 
her^  days  that  were  tinged  with  bitterness  and 
regret  now. 


AN  OBSERVANT  HUSBAND. 


173 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 


AN  OBSERVANT   HUSBAND. 


So,  though  Sinclair  tried  honestly  to  forget  Num^ 
and  harden  himself  against  her,  he  could  not  do  so. 
He  grew  so  thin  and  wretched  looking  that  his 
friends  began  to  notice  it.  They  thought  it  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  worked  so  hard  lately  on 
the  missionary's  case. 

"You  ought  to  take  a  rest  and  change  of  some 
sort,  Sinclair,"  Mr.  Davis  told  him,  "now  that  you 
have  got  the  missionary  off.  Why  not  take  a  run 
down  to  Matsushima,  where  the  Ballards  are?  Cleo 
thinks  the  spot  even  more  beautiful  than  about 
Fuji-Yama. " 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  g'^'ing  away,"  Sinclair  said, 
absently;  "besides,  Cleo  is  coming  back  next  v^reek, 
anj^how. " 

"Well,  suppose  you  run  down  for  the  rest  of  the 
week,  and  then  come  home  with  the  party, ' ' 

Sinclair  remained  thinking  a  moment. 

"Yes,  perhaps  it  would   divert  me  for  the  time 

being,"  he  said,  drawing  his  brows  together  with  a 

sudden  flash  of  pain,  as  he  remembered  how  he  had 

once  told  Nume  that  they  would  visit  Matsushima 

together,    some  day.      Mr.   Davis  left  him   at  his 

desk. 

"Can't  make  out  what's  the  matter  with  Sinclair," 
12 


W  I 


174 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


lie  told  his  wife.  "He  looks  wretched,  and  is  as 
absent-minded  as  he  can  be.  Seems  to  be  worrying 
about  something." 

"He  no  doubt  is — a — lonely,  Walter.  When  Cleo 
returns  he  will  be  all  right." 

In  the  same  way  as  she  trusted  or  tried  to  make 
herself  believe  that  Orito's  presence  would  cure 
Numfe,  so  she  liked  to  imagine  that  Cleo  Ballard's 
return  would  raise  Sinclair  out  of  the  despondency 
into  which  he  had  fallen. 

"No — Jenny,  I  think  you  make  a  mistake  about 
Sinclair's  caring  so  much  for  Cleo,"  Walter  Davis 
said,  slowly. 

"What  makes  you  say  that?"  his  wife  interrupted, 
sharply,  fearful  that  he  had  guessed  something  dur- 
ing Nume's  illness  in  their  house;  for  she  had  told 
him  nothing,  as  yet. 

Her  husband  hesitated  a  moment  before  answer- 
ing, then  he  said : 

"Fact  is,  I  saw  on  his  desk  quite  a  batch  of 
unopened  letters.  I  -Aranted  Sinclair  to  go  some- 
where with  me.  He  pleaded  press  of  business,  and 
I  took  it  he  had  to  answer  those  letters.  They 
were  all  from  one  person.  Jenny,  and  were  lying  in 
a  letter  basket  on  his  desk  without  ev  i^  the  seals 
broken.  I  made  the  remark  that  he  had  quite  a  lot 
of  mail  for  one  day.  What  do  you  think  he 
answered?  'This  is  nearly  a  week's  mail' — and  said 
he  had  forgotten  the  letters. ' ' 

Davis  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigar  into  a  receiver, 
then  he  continued,  slowly:  "My  dear,  the  letters 
were  from  Cleo  Ballard.     I  know  her  writing.     A 


i 

is.' 


AN  OBSERVANT  HUSBAND. 


175 


man  does  not  let  the  letters  from  a  girl  he  is  in  love 
with  remain  unopened  long,"  he  added.  . 

Mrs.  Davis  got  up.     ''Walter,"  she  said,  indig- 
nantly,  "that  man  is  a— a  brute." 


I 


1 


IjG 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


1:  i 


t      ! 


<  i 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


MATSUSHIMA  BAY. 


Matsushima  Bay  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful spots  in  Japan.  It  is  on  the  northeastern  coast, 
and  being  cool  and  refreshing  is  a  favorite  summer 
resort.  Coimtless  rocks  of  huge  size  and  form  are 
scattered  in  the  bay,  and  these  rocks  are  covered 
with  pine  trees.  Unnamed  flowers  bloom  also  on 
these  rocks  and  burn  their  surface  with  flaring 
colors.  It  may  be  that  the  rocks  are  even  more 
nutritious  than  the  earth  itself;  for  the  tall  pines 
that  take  their  root  in  them  seem  more  graceful  and 
delicate  than  those  found  on  land,  and  the  flowers 
are  more  fragrant  and  lovely  than  those  of  a  fairy- 
land dream. 

About  eight  miles  from  the  northern  shore,  where 
rests  the  beautiful  city  of  Sendai,  towers  Mount 
Tomi,  only  a  shadowy  tracing  in  the  evening  skies. 

It  was  in  the  city  of  Sendai  that  the  party  of  tour- 
ists had  settled.  They  were  charmed  wi'h  the 
beauty  of  their  surroundings,  and  being,  most  of 
them,  ardent  lovers  of  nature,  made  daily  trips, 
exploring  the  country,  visiting  the  temple  Zuiganji, 
which  is  located  only  a  few  ch<?  from  the  beach. 
This  temple  originally  belonged  to  Marquis  Date, 
the  feudal  lord  of  Sendai,  who  sent  an  envoy  to 
Rome  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  a  wooden 


11 


MATSUSHIMA  BAY. 


177 


image  of  him  still  stands  in  the  temple.  Or  they 
climbed  Mount  Tomi  in  order  to  get  a  view  of  the 
matchless  bay  with  its  coimtless  white  rocks;  eight 
hundred  and  eight,  they  are  said  to  number,  and 
there  ii^  only  one  rock  in  the  entire  bay  which  is 
bare  of  foliage.  It  is  called  Hadakajima,  or  Naked 
Island. 

Sinclair  arrived  in  this  ideal,  quiet,  restful  spot, 
travel-stained,  sick-hearted  and  weary.  Some  of 
his  travel  had  been  by  rail,  a  great  part  solely  by 
kurumma.  He  had  sent  Cleo  Ballard  no  word  of  his 
proposed  trip,  and  he  was  not  expected.  She  was 
not  at  the  hotel  when  he  arrived,  having  gone  out 
with  her  party  to  the  mountains. 

Sinclair  went  immediately  to  the  room  assigred 
him,  and  after  bathing  went  to  bed  in  the  middle  of 
the  day.  He  had  not  slept  for  several  days,  in  spite 
of  the  strange  lassitude  and  weariness  he  had  felt. 
The  inviting  white  of  the  American  bed  tempted 
him.  It  was  perhaps  the  first  real  sleep  he  had  had 
in  weeks. 

When  the  party  of  tourists  returned  to  the  hotel 
the  clerk  told  Cleo  Ballard  of  the  arrival  of  a  gentle- 
man who  had  enquired  for  her.  A  glance  at  the 
register  showed  her  Arthur  Sinclair's  name. 

Fanny  Morton  and  a  number  of  women  acquaint- 
ances were  at  her  elbow.  After  the  first  start  of 
emotion  and  surprise  she  tried  to  appear  calm  before 
them  and  as  if  she  had  expected  him. 

'*So  he  has  arrived?"  she  said  carelessly  to  Tom 
— and  to  the  clerk:  "Please  .send  him  word  that  we 
have  returned. ' ' 


1  \\ 


1  \\\ 


178 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


^1 


4! 


i^ 


The  boy  brought  the  answer  back  that  the  Amer- 
ican gentleman  was  sleeping — they  did  not  like  to 
wake  him 

"He  must  be  very  tired,"  the  girl  said. 

vSinclair  did  not  appear  in  the  dining-room  that 
evening.  His  dinner  was  served  to  him  in  his  room, 
and  Cleo  Ballard  saw  nothing  of  him  till  the  follow- 
ing day. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  dear,"  she  told 
him;  "the  summer  was  going  by  so  quickly,  and  I 
was  afraid  you  had  forgotten  your  promise. '  * 

"Did  I  make  any  promise, "  he  asked,  indifferently. 

"Why,  of  course,  Arthur;"  she  looked  hurt. 

"Well,  I  forgot,  Cleo.  One  can't  remember  all 
these  little  things,  you  know." 

"Then  what  made  you  come?"  she  asked,  sharply, 
stung  by  his  indifference. 

"Not  because  of  any  promise,  my  dear,"  he  said. 
"Simply  because  I  was  tired,"  and  then  as  he  saw 
her  hurt  face  he  added,  with  forced  gentleness:  "I 
wanted  to  see  you — that  was  the  chief  reason,  of 
course." 

Cleo  melted. 

"You  know,  dear,"  she  said,  "we  had  arranged  to 
go  back  to  Tokyo  the  end  of  this  week.  Of  course 
we  will  postpone  our  return,  now,  on  your  account. 
Yor  really  must  see  the  country  with  us. ' ' 

"Well,  Cleo,  I  have  seen  Matsushima  before.  I 
only  wanted  a  change  for  a  day  or  two,  that  was  all. 

No;    don't  delay  the  return  home — as — I , "  he 

struck  some  gravel  aside  with  his  cane;  "the  fact 
is,  it  is  too  quiet  here,  and  I  prefer  the  city." 


MATSUSHIMA  BAY. 


179 


i 


The  party  returned  to  Tokyo  about  a  week  later, 
Sinclair  feeling  somewhat  better.  The  bracing  air, 
the  beauty  of  the  bay,  and  the  constant  companion- 
ship of  friends,  served  to  turn  his  mind,  for  a  time, 
from  his  troubles. 


!^^ 


\.So 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


■  \<-  ii' 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
A   REJECTED   LOVER. 

Sinclair  found  a  very  odd  letter  waiting  for  him 

on  his  return  to  Tokyo.     It  was  written  in  English, 

and  ran  as  follows: 

Tokyo,  August  ao,  1896. 
Hon.   a.  Sinclair. 

Dear  Master  Sir : — Here  I  write  to  you  ashamed 
to  say  to  below  lines. 

1  intend  to  marry  in  next  month  soon  as  I  get 
money.  I  must  spend  two  hundred  yen  while  I 
marry.  My  father  gave  me  fifty  yen  upon  day 
before  yesterday,  and  I  was  have  twenty  yen  on  my 
hands.  I  have  already  seventy  yen  at  present,  and 
I  know  extraly  some  of  my  friends  will  help  me. 

Anyway,  soon  I  shall  have  full  one  hundred  yen, 
but  I  cannot  begin  marrying  with  that  much  money, 
BO  I  complain  to  you  for  borrow  me  some  money  if 
you  like  that  I  going  to  marry.  If  you  thinking 
right  and  borrow  me  some  in  this  time,  I  will  be 
thousand  thanks  for  you  until  before  I  die.  After- 
ward I  will  pay  back  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can,  but  I 
cannot  pay  you  all  in  one  time.  I  would  pay  six 
yen  each  end  of  per  month. 

Although  this  is  not  great  bisiness  for  you,  but  as 
for  me  first  greatly  bisiness  in  my  life.  If  you  do 
not  like  to  borrow  me  some  money  in  this  time  I 
never  marry  in  before  several  years. 

Do  as  you  please  that  you  like  it  or  not. 

I  have  very  many  things  to  tell  you,  but  I  know 
English  very  little  so  I  stop. 

Your  lovely  (loving)  clerk, 

Shiku. 


A  REJECTED  LOVER, 


i8i 


Sinclair  read  the  letter  aloud  to  Taylor,  and  both 
of  them  laughed  heartily,  enjoying  the  contents; 
then  he  touched  the  electric  button  on  his  desk. 
The  next  minute  Shiku  was  with  them. 

"So  you  want  to  marry,  Shiku?" 

"Yaes,  master-sir." 

"Um!     Have  you  settled  on  the  girl  yet?" 

"Yaes,  master-sir." 

"Fortunate  girl!"  from  Taylor. 

"And  you  think  she'll  have  you?" 

"Yaes,  master-sir." 

"What's  her  name?" 

"Tominaga  Koto." 

"Not  Koto  whom  I  painted  in  the  woods?"  put  in 
Taylor. 

The  boy  nodded  his  head  sagely. 

Sinclair  had  grown  suddenly  silent.  The  mention 
of  Koto's  name  instantly  called  up  memories  of 
Nume — memories  that  he  had  told  himself,  when  at 
Matsusiiima  with  Cleo  Ballard,  would  no  longer 
cause  him  a  pang.  His  voice  was  quite  gentle  as  he 
spoke  to  Shiku. 

"Well,  go  ahead  and  marry  her,  Shiku.  I'll  make 
you  a  gift  of  the  money,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  more. " 

The  boy  thanked  him  humbly,  repeating  over  and 
over  that  he  was  a  thousand  thanks  to  him  until 
before  he  died. 

"Rum  little  chap  that,"  Taylor  said,  as  the  boy 
left  them. 

"Yes,  he  is  a  bright  little  fellow.  Been  with  me 
now  ever  since  I  came  to  Japan," 

"Well,  he's  going  to  get  a  mighty  pretty  girl." 

13 


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18; 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Yes — I  suppose  so — as  good  as  the  rest  of  them." 

The  next  day  Shiku  presented  himself  before  the 
consul  with  a  very  woe-begone  and  disappointed 
countenance. 

"Well,  Shiku,  what  luck?"  Sinclair  asked  him. 
For  the  boy  had  gone  straight  to  Koto. 

"Koto  will  not  marry  with  me,  master-sir." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  told  me  she  had  already 
promised. ' ' 

"Yaes — bud — she  changing  her  mind." 

Sinclair  laughed,  shortly. 

"Been  fooling  you?" 

"No;"  he  hesitated  a  moment,  as  though  he 
feared  to  tell  Sinclair  the  truth.  Then  he  said: 
"She  not  like  for  to  leave  her  mistress  now; — "  he 
paused  again,  looking  uneasily  at  the  consul,  and 
shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 

Sinclair  had  been  opening  some  1  etters  with  a  paper- 
cutter  while  the  boy  had  been  speaking.  He  suddenly 
laid  it  down,  and  wheeled  round  on  his  chair. 

"Well?"— he  put  in. 

"Num^-san  is  quite  sick,"  the  boy  said. 

"Quite  sick!"  Sinclair  rose  with  an  effort.  He 
was  struggling  with  his  desire  to  seem  indifferent, 
even  before  the  office  boy,  but  a  sudden  feeling  of 
longing  and  tenderness  was  overpowering  him.  It 
shocked  him  to  think  of  Numfe's  being  ill — bright, 
happy,  healthful  Numb. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

*  *  I  not  know.  Kcto  say  she  cry  plenty,  and  grow  very 
thin, — that  she  have  very  much  luf  for  somebody." 

"Ah!" 


A  REJECTED  LOVER. 


183 


"I  tell  Koto,"  the  boy  continued,  "that  I  think 
she  love  Takashima  Orito,  and  that  he  not  love  her 
she  is  very  sad. ' ' 

Sinclair  began  to  pace  the  floor  with  restless, 
unsteady  strides. 

"Yes — it's  doubtless  that,  Shiku,"  he  said,  nerv- 
ously. "Well,  I'm  sorry — sorry  that  your — that 
your  marriage  will  have  to  wait." 


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184 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 
THE  ANSWER. 

The  same  day  that  Sinclair  had  heard  of  Num^'s 
illness,  Cleo  Ballard  received  a  letter  from  Orito. 
It  was  very  brief  and  simple. 

"I  am  coming  to  see  you,"  it  ran,  "at  seven 
o'clock  to-night,  before  your  party  will  start.  Then 
will  I  ask  you  for  the  answer  you  promised  me. ' ' 

Mrs.  Davis  was  with  her  when  she  received  the 
letter. 

"Now,  you  must  be  strong,  my  dear,"  she  said. 
"See  him,  and  have  it  all  over." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  Cleo  Ballard  said. 

Precisely  at  seven  o'clock  Takashima  Orito  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  hotel.  He  had  told  his  father 
and  Omi  of  his  mission  there ;  and  the  two  old  men 
were  waiting  in  great  trepidation  for  his  return. 

As  he  stood,  calm  but  expectant,  by  the  girl's 
side,  waiting  for  her  to  speak  first,  she  felt  a  sudden 
fear  of  him.  She  did  not  know  what  to  say.  She 
knew  he  was  determined  to  have  a  direct  answer 


now. 
"I  don't 


She    broke    the 


know  what  to  say.' 
strained  silence  desperately. 

"I  have  only  one  answer  to  expect,"  he  said,  very 
gently.  This  answer  silenced  the  girl.  The  Japan- 
ese came  closer  to  her  and  looked  full  in  her  face. 


THE  ANSWER. 


185 


"Will  you  marry  with  me,  Miss  Cleo?" 

"I — I "     She  shrank  back,  her  face  scared  and 

averted. 

"I  cannot!"  she  said,  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

She  did  not  look  at  him.  She  felt,  rather  than 
saw,  that  he  had  grown  suddenly  rigid  and  still. 
His  voice  did  not  falter,  however. 

"Will  you  tell  me  why?"  he  asked. 

"Because— I— am  already  betrothed— to  Mr.  Sin- 
clair. Because  I  never  could  love  any  one  but 
him." 

The  shadows  began  to  darken  in  the  little  sitting- 
room.  The  Japanese  was  standing  almost  as  if  pet- 
rified to  the  spot,  immovable,  silent.  Suddenly  she 
turned  to  him. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said,  and  tried  to  take  his 
hand. 

He  turned  slowly  and  left  the  room  without  one 
backward  look. 

The  silence  of  the  room  frightened  her.  She 
went  to  a  window  and  put  her  head  out.  A  sudden 
vague  terror  of  she  knew  not  what  seized  her.  Why 
was  everything  so  still?  Why  did  he  leave  her  like 
that?  If  he  only  had  reproached  her — that  would 
have  been  better;— but  to  go  without  a  word  to  her! 
It  was  awful — it  was  uncanny — cruel.  What  did  he 
intend  to  do?  She  began  to  conjure  up  in  her  mind 
all  sorts  of  imaginary  terrors.  She  told  herself  that 
she  hated  the  stillness  of  the  Japanese  atmosphere ; 
she  wanted  to  go  away — back  to  America,  where 
she  could  forget  everything— where,  perhaps,  Sin- 
clair would  be  to  her  as  he  had  been  in  the  old  days. 


i86 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


il 


;•     ' 


M 


She  had  been  on  a  nervous  strain  all  day,  and  she 
broke  down  utterly. 

Mrs.  Davis  found  her  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  hysterically. 

"There,  dear — it  is  all  over  now," — she  put  her 
arms  about  the  girl  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 

"No,  no,  Jen;  I  feel  it  is  not  over.  I  think — I 
imagine — Oh,  Jenny,  I  don't  know  what  to  think. 
He  acted  so  queerly.  I  don't  know  what  to  think. 
I  dread  everything.  Jenny,"  she  put  her  hand 
feverishly  on  the  other  woman's  shoulder,  "tell  me 
about  these  Japanese — can  they — do  they  feel  as 
deeply  as  we  do?" 

"Yes — no;  don't  let's  talk  about  them,  dear. 
Kemember,  they  are  giving  you  and  the  travelers  a 
liig  party  to-night  at  the  hotel.  You  must  dress — it 
is  nearly  eight  now." 


mm 


THE  BALL. 


187 


CHAPTER   L. 
THE   BALL. 

Never  had  Cleo  Ballard  appeared  so  beautiful  as 
that  night.  Her  eyes  shone  brightly  with  excite- 
ment, her  cheeks  were  a  deep  scarlet  in  hue,  and  her 
wonderful  rounded  neck  and  arms  gleamed  daz- 
zlingly  white  against  the  black  lace  of  her  gown. 

Even  Sinclair  roused  out  of  his  indifference  to 
look  after  her  in  deep  admiration. 

"You  are  looking  very  beautiful  to-night,  Cleo," 
he  said ;  and  ten  minutes  afterwards  Tom,  passing/ 
with  Rose  Cranston  on  his  arm,  laid  his  hand  on 
Cleo's  shoulder:  "You  are  looking  unnaturally  beau- 
tiful,  Cleo.     Anything  wrong?" 

"Must  there  necessarily  be  something  wrong, 
Tom,  because  I  am  looking  well?" 

Tom  gave  her  a  scrutinizing  glance.  In  spite  of 
her  quick  bantering  words  there  was  something  in 
the  girl  which  made  him  think  she  was  laboring 
under  some  intense  excitement,  and  that  it  was  thi.s 
very  excitement  that  was  buoying  her  up  and  lend- 
ing her  a  brilliancy  that  was  almost  unnatural.  Tom 
knew  the  reaction  must  come.  All  through  the 
evening  he  watched  his  cousin.  She  was  surrounded 
almost  constantly,  save  when  she  danced.  Later  in 
the  evening  he  pushed  his  way  to  her  side.  She 
was  resting  after  a  dance. 


r 


i88 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"Cleo,  you  are  dancing  too  much,"  he  said,  noting 
the  girl's  flushed  cheeks. 

"One  can't  do  anything  too  much,  you  know, 
Tom.  I  hate  moderation  in  anything — I  hate  any- 
thing lukewarm;"  she  was  answering  at  random. 
He  put  his  hand  on  hers.     They  burned  with  fever. 

"You  are  not  well  at  all,"  he  said,  and  then 
added,  looking  about  them  anxiously:  "I  wonder 
where  Sinclair  is?" 

The  girl  was  possessed  with  a  sudden  anger. 

"Don't  ask  me,  Tom.  I  would  be  the  last  person 
to  know  of  his  whereabouts. "  The  words  were  very 
bitter. 

"You  know,  Cleo,"  he  answered  her,  soothingly, 
"Sinclair  never  did  care  for  this  kind  of  thing.  He 
is  doubtless  in  the  grounds  somewhere.  Wait — I'll 
hunt  him  up."  He  rose  from  his  seat,  but  the  girl 
stayed  him  peremptorily. 

"Not  for  my  sake,  Tom.  Oh,  I  assure  you,  I  shall 
not  wither  without  him,"  she  said. 

Tom  sat  down  beside  her  ag.  in. 

"Look  here,  little  sis,  don't  get  cynical — nor — nor 
untruthful.  I  know  very  well  you  want  to  see  Sin- 
clair. I  have  not  seen  you  together  all  evening,  and 
I  believe  it's  partially  that  which  makes  you  so  rest- 
less. No  use  trying  to  fool  old  Tom  about  any- 
thing." 

Cleo  did  not  argue  the  point  any  longer,  and  Tom 
passed  on  to  the  piazza  of  the  hotel. 

Quite  a  lot  of  the  guests  were  congregated  there, 
some  of  them  telling  tales,  others  listening  to  the 
music.     Tom  made  his  way  to  where  he  saw  Mrs. 


THE  BALL. 


189 


Davis  standing.  She  was  with  Fanny  Morton,  and 
they  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some  one. 

Aug  list  is  the  universal  month  for  holding  ban- 
quets in  honor  of  the  full  moon,  in  Japan,  and  gay 
parties  of  pleasure-seekers  are  to  be  met  on  the 
streets  at  all  hours  of  the  night. 

"Seen  Sinclair  anywhere  about?"  Tom  asked 
thc:m. 

"Yes,  Tom,"  Mrs.  Davis  said,  nervously.  "He 
and  Walter  went  down  the  street  for  a  while. 
Something  has  happened.  Mr.  Sinclair  thought 
some  one  had  got  hurt.  They  said  they  would  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

Tom  waited  with  the  two  women.  The  dance 
music  floated  out  dreamily  on  the  air,  mingled  with 
the  incessant  chatter  and  laughter  of  the  guests. 
Inside  the  brilliantly-lighted  ball-room  the  figures  of 
the  dancers  passed  back  and  forth  before  the  windows. 

As  they  sat  silently  listening,  and  watching  the 
gay  revelry,  a  weird  sound  struck  on  their  ears — it 
was  the  muffled  beating  of  Buddhist  drums. 

The  two  women  and  Tom  rose  to  their  feet 
shivering.  They  turned  instinctively  to  go  indoors. 
Standing  quite  near  the  door  by  which  they  entered 
was  Cleo.  Her  beautiful  face  was  flushed  with 
fever;  her  eyes  were  filled  with  terror.  She  was 
leaning  forward,  listening  to  the  faint,  muffled  beat 
of  the  drums. 

"Some  one  is  dead!"  she  said,  in  a  piercing  whis- 
per, and  threw  her  beautiful  bare  arms  high  above 
her  head  as  she  fell  prone  at  their  feet. 

18 


11   ' 


'{ 


r 


I 


.90 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  FEARFUL  NEWS. 

What  awful  premonition  of  <lisaster  had  filled  Cleo 
Ballard  all  that  night!  The  guests  gathered  awe- 
struck  about  the  fallen  figure  which,  but  a  moment 
before,  was  so  full  of  life,  vivacity,  and  beauty. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  some  one  breathed. 

Fanny  Morton's  sharp  words  cut  the  air: 

"Some  Japanese  has  died,  that  is  all — killed  him- 
self, they  say.  She  fainted  when  she  heard  the 
drums  beat." 

Very  gently  they  carried  the  unconscious  girl  to 
her  room.  The  music  had  ceased ;  the  guests  had 
lost  their  appetite  for  enjoyment.  Almost  with  one 
accord  all,  save  a  few  stragglers,  had  deserted  the 
ball-room,  and  were  now  grouped  in  the  grounds  of 
the  hotel,  or  on  the  steps  and  piazzas,  waiting  for 
the  return  of  the  two  men  who  had  gone  to  learn  the 
cause  of  the  alarm. 

At  last  they  came  up  the  path.  They  walked 
slowly,  laggingly.  Mrs.  Davis  ran  down  to  meet 
them. 

"What  is  it?"  she  whispered,  fearfully.  "Cleo 
has  fainted,  and  a  panic  has  spread  among  all  the 
guests." 

Walter  Davis's  usually  good-tempered  face  was 
bleached  to  a  white  horror. 


THE  FEARFUL  NEWS. 


191 


**Orito,  his  father,  and  Watanabe  Omi  have  all 
killed  themselves,"  he  said,  huskily. 

The  American  lady  stood  stoc'c-still,  staring  at 
them  with  fixed  eyes  of  horror.  The  news  spread 
rapidly  among  the  guests,  all  of  whom  had  known 
both  families  well.  They  were  asking  each  other 
with  pale  lips — the  cause?  the  cause? 

Mrs.  Davis  clung  in  terror  to  her  husband. 

"Keep  it  from  Cleo,"  she  almost  wailed.  "Oh, 
don't  let  her  know  it — she  must  not  knov/  it — she 
must  not. ' ' 

The  guests  lingered  late  that  night,  in  the  open 
air.  It  was  past  three  o'clock  before  they  began  to 
disperse  slowly,  one  by  one,  to  their  rooms  or  their 
homes. 


'11 


193 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


i,  1 


CHAPTER    LII. 


THE  TRAGEDY. 


f!, 


I'  : 


After  leaving  Cleo  Ballard,  Orito  had  jumped  into 
the  waiting  kurumma,  and  had  been  driven  directly 
home.  There  he  found  the  two  old  men  waiting  for 
him.  The  house  was  unlighted,  save  by  the  moon- 
light, which  was  very  bright  that  night,  and 
streamed  into  the  room,  touching  gently  the  white 
heads  of  the  two  old  men  as  they  sat  on  their  mats 
patiently  awaiting  Orito's  return.  It  touched  some- 
thing bright,  also,  that  lay  on  a  small  table,  and 
which  gleamed  with  a  scintillating  light.  It  was  a 
Japanese  sword  I 

Orito  entered  the  house  very  silently.  He  bowed 
low  and  courteously  as  he  entered  the  room,  in  stiict 
Japanese  fashion.     Then  he  began  to  speak. 

"My  father,  you  have  accused  me  sometimes  of 
being  no  longer  Japanese.  To-night  I  will  surely 
be  so.  The  woman  of  whom  I  told  you  was  false, 
after  all."  His  eyes  wandered  to  the  sword  and 
dwelt  there  lovingly.  He  crossed  to  where  it  lay 
and  picked  it  up,  running  his  hand  down  its  blade. 

"I  have  no  further  desire  to  live,  my  father. 
Should  I  live  I  would  go  on  loving — her — who  is  so 
unworthy.  That  would  be  a  dishonor  to  the  woman 
I  would  marry  for  your  sakes,  perhaps.  Therefore, 
'tis  better  to  die  an  honorable  death  than  to  live  a 
dishonorable  life;  for  it  is  even  so  in  this  country. 


THE  TRAGEDY. 


»93 


that  my  death  would  atone  for  all  the  suffering  I 
have  caused  you.     Very  honorable  would  it  be. " 

Sadly  he  bade  the  two  old  men  farewell;  but 
Sachi  stayed  his  arm,  frantically. 

"Oh,  my  son,  let  thy  father  go  first,"  he  said. 

One  thrust  only,  in  a  vital  part,  a  sound  between 
a  sigh  and  a  moan,  and  the  old  man  had  fallen. 
Then  quick  as  lightning  Orito  had  cut  his  own 
throat.  Omi  stared  in  horror  at  the  fallen  dead. 
They  were  all  he  had  loved  on  earth,  for,  alas! 
Numfe  had  represented  to  him  only  the  fact  that  she 
would  some  day  be  the  wife  of  Orito.  Never,  since 
her  birth,  had  he  ceased  to  regret  that  she  had  not 
been  a  son.  He  picked  the  bloody  sword  up,  and 
with  a  hand  that  had  lost  none  of  its  old  Samourai 
cunning  he  soon  ended  his  own  life. 

About  an  hour  after  this  a  horror-stricken  servant 
looked  in  at  the  room  in  its  semi-darkness.  He  saw 
the  three  barely  distinguishable  dark  forms  on  the 
floor,  and  ran  wildly  through  the  house,  alarming  all 
the  servants  and  retainers  of  the  household.  Soon 
the  room  was  flooded  with  light,  and  the  dead  were 
being  raised  gently  and  prepared  for  burial,  amidst 
the  lamentations  of  the  servants,  who  had  fairly 
idolized  them.  Relatives  were  sent  for  in  post 
haste,  and  before  the  night  had  half  ended  the 
muffled  beating  of  Buddhist  drums  was  heard  on  the 
streets,  for  the  families  were  well  known  and 
wealthy,  and  were  to  be  given  a  great  and  honor- 
able funeral.  And  also,  the  sounds  of  passionate 
weeping  filled  the  air,  and  floated  out  from  the 
house  of  death. 


194 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAI'AN. 


I! 


CHAPTER   LIII. 
A   LITTLE  HEROINE. 

It  was  three  days  later.  Cleo  Ballard  had  been 
sick  with  nervous  prostration  ever  since  the  night  of 
the  ball.  Mrs.  Davis  was  with  her  constantly,  and 
would  permit  no  one  whatever  to  see  her — not  even 
Sinclair.  She  had  told  the  facts  to  her  husband  and 
to  the  doctor,  and  had  enlisted  them  on  her  side;  so 
that  it  was  not  a  difficult  matter  for  her,  for  the  time 
being,  and  while  Cleo  lay  too  ill  to  countermand 
her  orders,  to  forbid  any  one  from  intruding,  for  she 
did  not  want  her  to  know  of  the  awful  tragedy  that 
had  transpired. 

Sinclair  inquired  day  and  night  after  Cleo's 
health,  and  sent  flowers  to  her.  He,  himself,  had 
suffered  a  great  deal  since  that  same  night,  what 
with  the  shock  of  his  friend's  death,  Cleo's  unex- 
pected illness,  and,  above  all,  an  inexplicable  long- 
ing and  desire  to  see  Numb — to  go  to  her  and 
comfort  her  in  this  fresh  trial  that  had  come  to  h^r. 
She  was  now  utterly  alone  in  the  world,  he  knew, 
save  for  one  distant  relative. 

Thoroughly  exhausted  with  'the  trials  of  the  last 
days,  and  wishing  to  get  away  from  the  hotel,  Sin- 
clair had  shut  himself  indoors,  and  had  thrown  him- 
self on  a  couch,  trying  vainly  to  find  rest  He  kept 
puzzling   over   the    cause   of   Takashima's   death. 


A  LITTLE  HKROhNE. 


»95 


Whether  the  truth  had  been  suspected  amonj;-  some 
of  the  Americans  who  had  been  on  the  boat  with 
Cleo  and  Orito  or  not,  no  one  had  as  yet  breathed  a 
word  of  it  to  him.  As  he  hiy  there  restlessly,  some 
one  tapped  on  his  wall. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  called,  fretfully. 

"It  is  Shiku,  master-sir." 

"Well,  come  in." 

The  boy  entered  almost  fearfully,  and  began 
apologizing  profusely  in  advance. 

"It  is  Koto  who  has  made  me  intrude,  master," 
he  said.  "She  is  waiting  outside  for  you,  and  tells 
me  she  must  talk  with  you.  vShc  will  not  enter  the 
house,  however,  and  she  is  very  much  fearful." 

The  American  went  to  the  door.  There  stood 
Koto,  a  trembling,  frightened  little  figure  in  the 
half-light. 

"Come  in,  Koto,"  he  said,  noting  her  embarrass- 
ment; and  then,  as  she  still  hesitated,  he  drew  her 
very  gently  but  firmly  into  the  house  and  closed  the 
door.  Soon  she  was  seated  in  one  of  his  large 
chairs,  and  because  she  was  such  a  little  thing  it 
seemed  almost  to  swallow  her  up. 

"Numc  not  know  that  I  come  tell  you  of  our 
grade  sadness,"  she  said,  stumblingly.  "Mrs. 
Davis  will  not  forgive  me  forever,  but  I  come  tell 
you  the  trute,  Mister  Consul."  She  began  to  weep 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  coulc'  jo  no  further.  The  sight 
of  the  wretched  little  sobbing  figure  touched  Sin- 
clair very  deeply.  He  thought  she  had  some  revela- 
'  tion  to  make  about  the  death  of  Orito.  He  was 
:inprepared  for  her  next  words. 


>; 


ii 


196 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


"My  mistress,  Numfe-san,  luf  vou  so  much  that 
she  going  to  die,  I  thing'." 

Sinclair  stood  up,  a  strange,  doubting,  uncompre- 
hending look  on  his  face. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Koto?"  he  asked,  sternly. 
"Are  you  trying  to — to  fool  me  about  something?" 

"No!  No  I  I  not  to  fool  with  you.  I  tell  you  the 
trute.  Mrs.  Davis  tell  Num^  of  vaery  sad  story 
account  the  august  Americazan  lady  wait  long  many 
years  for  you,  that  you  love  her  always,  just  not  love 
for  a  liddle  while,  because  of  Nume,  that " 

A  sudden  light  began  to  break  in  on  Sinclair. 

"So  Num^  tell  you  she  not  to  luf  because  she 
want  to  serve  the  honorable  Americazan  ladies  and 
not  to  pain  her  father  and  Takashima  Sachi.  Then 
she  get  vaery  sick.  She  cry  for  you  all  the  time,  and 
when  she  is  very  sick  she  say:  'Koto,  go  tell  Mr. 
Sinka  I  not  mean.'  Then  when  she  is  better  she 
say :  '  No ;  Koto  must  not  go. '  " 

Sinclair  sat  down  again,  and  shaded  his  face  with 
his  hand.  His  mind  was  in  confusion.  He  could 
not  think.  Only  out  of  the  jumble  of  his  thoughts 
came  one  idea — that  Numb  loved  him,  after  all. 
Now  he  remembered  how  unnatural,  how  excited, 
she  had  been  that  last  day.  Ah,  what  a  fool  he  was 
to  have  believed  her  then! 

His  voice  was  quite  unsteady  when  he  broke  the 
long  silence.  "Koto!  Koto!  how  can  I  ever  repay 
you  for  what  you  have  done?" 

The  little  maid  was  weeping  bitterly. 

"Ah !  Koto  is  vaery  'fraid  that  she  tell  you  all  this, 
account   Mrs.    Davis  will    speag  that   I    mur'   not 


A  LITTLE  HEROINE. 


197 


worg  any  longer  for  Numfe ;  she  will  tell  her  rela- 
tives so,  and  they  will  send  me  away.  Then  Nume 
will  be  all  alone ;  because  only  Koto  love  Nume  for- 
ever." 

Sinclair  was  smiling  very  tenderly.  "You  have 
forgotten  me,  Koto.  I  will  take  care  of  both  of 
you,  never  fear,  little  woman.  I  am  going  with  you 
to  her  now. ' ' 

"It  is  too  late  now,"  the  girl  said.  "Nume  will 
have  retired  when  we  reach  home.  Shiku  is  going 
to  take  me  home,  and  to-morrow  will  you  coma?" 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  looking  more  hopeful  and 
happy  than  when  she  had  first  come  in. 

"You  will  make  it  all  good  again,"  she  said,  look- 
ing up  at  him  with  somewhat  of  Num^'s  confidence : 
"for  you  are  so  big.'' 


14 


198 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    LIV. 


SINCLAIR  LEARNS  THE   TRUTH  AT   LAST. 


h"' 


.  4 


After  Koto  had  left  Sinclair  he  sat  down  to  think. 
His  brain  was  whirling,  for  his  thoughts  and  plans 
were  in  confusion.  His  first  impulse  had  been  to  go 
straight  to  Numb ;  but  he  had  promised  Koto  to  wait 
until  the  following  day.  Now  that  he  was  alone,  he 
suddenly  remembered  Cleo  Ballard.  Was  he  free 
to  go,  after  all?  Could  he  desert  Cleo  now  while  she 
lay  so  sick  and  helpless?  His  joy  in  the  renewed 
assurance  of  Nume's  love  for  him  had  been  suddenly 
tinged  with  bitter  pain.     What  could  he  do? 

He  slept  none  through  the  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing of  the  next  day  he  hurried  over  to  the  hotel  and 
made  his  usual  enquiries  after  Cleo's  health.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Davis,  with  Tom,  had  done  their  best  to 
prevent  him  from  knowing  the  cause  of  Orito's  sui- 
cide. Various  reasons  had  been  suggested;  and 
after  the  first  alarm  had  worn  off,  and  the  bodies 
had  been  interred  with  due  ceremony,  the  excite- 
ment subsided  somewhat,  so  that  they  had  hopes  of 
the  talk  quieting  down,  and  perhaps  dying  out  aVo- 
gether,  without  the  truth  reaching  Sinclair's  ears; 
for,  knowing  him  to  be  her  betrothed,  there  were 
few  who  were  unkind  or  unscrupulous  enough  to 
tell  him. 

As  Sinclair  passed  through  the  hotel  corridor  on 


SINCLAIR  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST.   199 

hit»  way  to  the  front  door,  Fanny  Morton  came  down 
the  wide  staircase  of  the  hotel.  She  stopped  him 
as  he  was  going  out. 

''Let  me  express  my  sympathy,"  she  said,  sweetly. 

"Your  sympathy!"  he  said,  coldly;  for  he  did  not 
like  her.     '*I  do  not  understand  you,  Miss  Morton." 

"Yes,"  she  cooed.  "I  am  sure  lean  vouch  for 
Cleo  that  she  never  dreamed  he  would  take  it  so 
seriously.  I  was  with  them  on  the  voyage  out,  you 
know,  and  indeed  Cleo  often  said  the  passengers 
were  dull.     He  cheered  her  up,  and — and " 

"Really,  Miss  Morton,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand you,"  he  said,  curtly. 

Fanny  Morton  showed  her  colors.  There  was  no 
suggestion  of  sweetness  in  her  voice  now. 

"I  mean  that  everyone  knows  that  Mr.  Takashima 
killed  himself  because  he  was  in  love  with  Miss  Bal- 
lard ;  because  she  let  him  believe  on  the  boat  that 
she  reciprocated  his— affection,  and  the  night  of  the 
ball  she  told  him  the  truth.  He  killed  himself,  they 
say,  hardly  an  hour  after  he  had  seen  her. " 

Jenny  Davis  stood  right  at  the  back  of  them.  She 
had  heard  the  woman's  venomous  words,  but  was 
powerless  to  refute  them.  Sinclair  felt  her  eyes 
fixed  on  him  with  an  entreaty  that  was  pitiful. 

He  raised  his  hat  to  Fannie  Morton. 

"I  will  wish  you  good  morning,"  he  said,  cut- 
tingly, and  that  was  all. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  other  woman. 

"Let  us  go  in  here,"  he  said,  and  drew  her  into  a 
small  sitting-room. 

"What  does  that  woman  mean?"  he  asked. 


' 


JIOO 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


Mrs.  Davis  had  broken  down. 

*'We  can't  keep  on  pretending  any  longer,  Mr. 
Sinclair.  Yes;  it  is  true,  what  she  says.  Poor  Cleo 
did  lead  him  on,  thoughtlessly — you  know  the  rest. ' ' 

A  look  of  dogged  sternness  began  to  settle  on 
Sinclair's  face. 

"Then  she  was  the  real  cause  of " 

"No!  no!  don't  say  that.  Arthur,  she  never 
Intended  doing  any  harm.  Cleo  would  not  willingly 
harm  anything  or  any  one.  She  really  liked  him. 
Tom  will  tell  you.  It  was  the  reason  why  she  never 
had  the  heart  to  tell  him — of — of  her  engagement  to 
you." 

For  a  long  time  the  two  sat  in  moody  silence. 
Then  Sinclair  said,  almost  bitterly:  "And  it  was  for 
her  that  Numfe  suifered  " 

"Why,  Num^ — is — what  do  you  mean?"  the  other 
asked,  showing  signs  of  hysteria. 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Davis,  I  know  the  truth,"  he  said, 
grimly.  "I  understand  that  you  thought  you  were 
really  serving  Cleo  and  myself  by  acting  so— but — 
well,  a  man  is  not  cured  of  love  so  easily,  you  know. 
She  (Num^)  gave  me  up  because  she  did  not  want 
to  spoil  a  good  woman's  life,  as  she  thought,  after 
what  you  told  her.  This  same  woman  did  not 
scruple  to  take  from  her  the  man  who  might  have 
comforted  her  after  everything  else  had  failed. 
Now  she  is  utterly  alone.  " 

"I  won't  say  anything  now,"  Mrs.  Davis  said, 
bitterly.  "I  can't  defend  myself.  You  would  not 
understand.  It  is  easy  to  be  hard  where  we  do  not 
love ; — that  is  why  you  have  no  mercy  on  Cleo." 


SINCLAIR  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST.   201 

"I  am  thinking  of  Numfe,  '  the  man  answered. 

"May  I  ask  what  you  intend  to  do?" 

"Last  night  I  was  uncertain.  This  morning,  now 
that  I  know  the  truth,  things  are  plain  before  me. 
I  am  going  to  Numfe, ' '  he  added,  firmly. 

"But  Cleo?"  the  other  almost  implored. 

"I  cannot  think  of  her  now." 

"But  you  will  have  to  see  her.  What  can  you 
tell  her?  We  are  hiding  from  her,  as  best  we  can, 
the  fact  of — of  the  tragedy.  That  would  kill  her; 
as  for  your  ceasing  to  care  for  her,  she  suspected  the 
possibility  of  it  long  ago,  and  might  survive  that. 
Yet  how  can  she  know  the  one  without  the  other?" 

Sinclair  remained  thinking  a  moment. 

"There  is  only  one  way.  Let  her  think  of  me 
what  she  will.  You  are  right;  if  possible  the  truth 
— even  Takashima's  death — must  be  kept  from  her 
so  long  as  she  is  too  weak  to  bear  the  knowledge. 
Can  we  not  have  her  make  the  return  voyage  soon? 
I  will  write  to  her,  and  though  it  will  sound  brutal, 
I  will  tell  her  that  the  reason  why  I  cannot  be  more 
to  her  than  a  friend  is — because  I — I  do  not  love 
her, — that  I  love  another  woman." 

Mrs,  Davis  was  weeping  bitterly.  All  her  efforts 
and  plans  had  been  of  no  avail  in  Cleo's  behalf. 
She  saw  it  now,  and  did  not  even  try  to  hold 
Sinclair. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  almost  wildly.  "Go  to  Nume — 
she  will  comfort  you.  At  least  your  sorrows  and 
hers  have  ended,  now.  But  as  for  ours — Cleo's  and 
mine,  for  I  have  always  loved  her  better  than  if  she 
were  my  own  sister — we  will  try  to  forget,  too." 


i  03 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER   LV. 
LOVERS  AGAIN. 

Koto  had  told  Numfe  nothing  of  her  visit  to  Sin- 
clair. The  girl  had  been  so  stunned  by  the  deaths 
of  her  father,  Orito,  and  Sachi,  that  Koto  had  not 
the  heart  even  to  tell  her  good  news ;  for  when  our 
friends  are  in  sorrow  the  best  comfort  one  can  give 
is  to  weep  and  sorrow  with  them; — so  the  Japanese 
believe.  Besides,  she  wanted  Sinclair's  coming  to 
be  a  surprise  to  the  girl. 

In  Numb's  great  sorn  w  and  illness  she  would 
have  no  one  by  her  save  Koto,  and  once  m  a  while 
Koto's  friend,  Matsu,  who  was  visiting  them.  Koto 
had  had  her  come  to  the  house  because  she  played 
the  harp  so  beautifully,  and  she  knew  the  music 
would  please  Num^.  Both  the  girls  tried  in  every 
way  to  make  up  to  the  grieving  orphan  for  the  sor- 
rows that  had  suddenly  come  to  darken  her  young 
life.  Often  the  three  would  sit  together  hand  in 
hand,  Nume  between  her  two  friends,  speaking  no 
word  to  each  other,  but  each  feeling  strangely  com- 
forted and  refreshed  with  the  others'  love  and  sym- 
pathy. After  the  funeral  ceremony,  Num^  had 
awakened  somewhat  out  of  her  apathy,  and  tried  to 
take  interest  in  things  about  her ;  but  it  was  a  piti- 
ful effort,  and  always  made  Koto  weep  so  much  that 
one  day  Matsu  had  suggested  to  her  that  she  go  to 


LOVERS  AGAIN. 


2  0J 


the  city  and  see  the  American  and  tell  him  the  truth. 
For  Numb  ^had  told  Koto  of  what  Mrs.  Davis  had 
caused  her  to  do ;  and  Koto,  in  her  turn,  had  told 
Matsu. 

"You  have  become  too  secluded  and  proud, 
Koto,"  the  city  geisha  girl  told  her.  "It  is  an  easy 
matter  to  go  to  the  city  and  perhaps  you  will  do 
Nume  and  the  American  a  great  service.  I  will  stay 
with  Nume-san  while  you  are  gone,  and  will  wait  on 
her  just  as  if  I  .vere  indeed  her  maid  instead  of  your 
being  so."  It  was  in  this  way  Koto  had  been 
induced  to  visit  the  American. 

The  next  morning,  as  she  and  Nume  sat  together, 
she  said: 

"Nume-san,  did  you  know  why  Orito  killed  him- 
self?" 

"No." 

"It  was  because  he  loved  the  honorable  American 
lady." 

Nume  did  not  interrupt  her.  Koto  continued; 
"The  beautiful  one  that  was  betrothed  to  Mr. 
Sinka." 

Nume's  little  hands  were  clasped  in  her  lap.  She 
did  not  speak,  still. 

Koto  went  on:  "You  see,  she  was  not  worthy, 
after  all,  that  you  sacrificed  the  pretty  American 
gentleman  for  her,  for  Matsu  says  that  all  the  Amer- 
icans say  at  the  hotel  that  she  tell  Orito  sometime 
that  she  love  him  just  for  fun — and  she  not  love — so 
Takashima  Orito  kill  himself." 

Still  Numb  did  not  reply.  Her  little  head  had 
fallen  back  weakly  against  the  pillow.      She  was 


i  'I 


n 


304 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


t  til 


looking  away  out  before  her.     After  a  time  Koto 
put  her  arms  about  her,  and  they  clung  together. 

*'Koto,"  Numfe  said,  vaguely,  "will  you  leave  me 
now?  Or  will  you  stay  with  me  forever?  Numfe  is 
so  lonely  now. " 

Koto  evaded  the  question. 

"I  will  stay  with  you,  Numb-san,  until  you  do  not 
need  me  any  longer. ' ' 

"That  will  never  be,"  the  other  said,  tenderly. 

That  afternoon  Koto  fetched  her  samisen  and 
played  very  softly  to  Numfe.  After  a  time  she  laid 
her  instrument  aside  and  went  to  the  door,  shading 
her  face  with  her  hand  as  she  scanned  the  road.  It 
was  about  the  hour  Sinclair  had  told  her  to  expect 
him.  vShe  heard  the  beat  of  his  runners  before  they 
were  within  a  mile  of  the  house. 

*'I  am  going  to  leave  you  all  alone,  for  a  little 
while,"  she  told  Num^. 

She  went  down  to  meet  Sinclair,  and  admitted 
him  into  the  house.  She  pointed  to  the  room  where 
Numfe  was  and  then  left  him. 

Sinclair  pushed  aside  the  shoji  and  passed  into 
the  room. 

Numfe  raised  her  head  languidly  at  the  opening  of 
the  screens.  At  first  she  thought  she  was  dreaming, 
and  she  sat  up  straight  on  the  little  couch  on  which 
she  had  been  resting.  Suddenly  Sinclair  was 
beside  her,  and  had  taken  her  bodily  into  his  arms. 

"Numfe!  Numfe!"  he  whispered; — and  then,  as  she 
struggled  faintly  to  be  free,  he  said,  blissfully, 
"Oh,  I  know  the  truth,  little  sweetheart,  though  it 
is  too  good  for  me  to  understand  it  yet.     Koto  has 


LOVERS  AGAIN. 


205 


IS 


told  me  everything,  and— and  oh!  Numb!"  He 
kissed  the  wistful  eyes  rapturously. 

He  scarcely  knew  her,  she  had  grown  so  quiet 
and  sad.  In  the  woods  she  had  chattered  con- 
stantly to  him;— now,  he  could  not  make  her  say 
anything.  But  after  a  while,  when  Sinclair  had 
chided  her  for  her  silence,  she  said,  very  shyly : 

"Do  you  luf  me,  Mr.  Sinka,  bedder  than  the 
beautiful  Americazan  lady?" 

Sinclair  raised  her  little  face  between  his  two 
hands. 

"Sweetheart — do  you  need  to  ask?"  he  said.  "I 
have  never  loved  any  one  but  you. ' ' 

The  girl  smiled— the  first  time  she  had  smiled  in 
weeks.  Her  two  little  hands  met  round  his  neck, 
she  rose  on  tiptoe.  "Numb  lig'  to  kees  with 
you,"  she  said,  artlessly.  There  is  no  need  to  tell 
what  Sinclair  answered. 

When  the  shadows  began  to  deepen,  he  and  Nume 
still  sat  together  on  the  small  lounge,  neither  of 
them  conscious  of  time  or  place.  They  were  renew- 
ing their  acquaintance  with  each  other,  and  each 
was  discovering  new  delights  in  the  other. 

It  was  Koto  who  broke  in  on  them.  She  had 
been  in  the  next  room  all  the  time,  and  had  watched 
them  through  small  peep-holes  in  the  wall. 

She  made  a  great  noise  at  the  other  side  of  it 
to  let  them  know  it  was  now  getting  late.  They 
looked  at  each  other  smiling,  both  comprehending. 

"Koto  is  our  iviQndiforaever,''  Numb  said. 

"We  will  be  Koto's  friends  forever,"  Sinclair 
answered. 

14 


206 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER    LVI. 
THE   PENALTY. 

When  Sinclair  returned  to  the  city  that  night  he 
sat  down  in  his  office  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Cleo 
Ballard.  It  was  the  most  difficult  thing  he  had 
ever  done  in  his  life.  It  told  her  briefly  of  his  love 
for  Numfe.  He  felt  he  could  not  be  a  good  husband 
to  her  so  long  as  he  loved  another  woman.  It  was 
better  she  knew  it  than  to  find  it  out  after  they  had 
married. 

Mrs.  Davis  gave  it  to  Cleo  when  she  thought  her 
strong  enough  to  bear  the  shock.  She  read  it  with 
white  lips,  her  poor,  thin  hands  tiembling  as  the 
letter  slipped  to  her  feet, 

"I  expected  it,"  she  said,  bitterly,  to  Mrs.  Davis; 
and  then  suddenly,  without  the  smallest  warning, 
she  leaned  over  and  picked  the  scattered  sheets 
from  the  floor  and  tore  them  into  a  thousand  frag- 
ments with  such  fierceness  that  it  frightened  her 
friend. 

After  that  day  Mrs.  Davis  devoted  herself  more 
than  ever  to  her  friend,  and  scarce  left  her  alone 
for  a  moment.  A  strange  calm  and  quiet  had 
come  over  Cleo.  She  would  sit  for  hours  by  an 
open  window,  perfectly  silent,  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap,  looking  out  before  her  with  large 


THE  PENALTY. 


207 


eyes  which    were  dry  of  tears,  but  which  held  a 
nameless  brooding. 

Mrs.  Davis  tried  in  every  way  to  cheer  her  up, 
but  though  she  protested  that  she  was  not  suffer- 
ing, yet  she  could  not  deceive  her  friend  who  knew 
her  so  well. 

"You  are  going  to  be  happy,  dear,  and  as  soon 
as  you  are  strong  enough  we'll  make  the  voyage 
back.  You  didn't  know  I  was  going  with  you, 
did  you?  Well,  dear,"  her  sweet  voice  faltered,' 
"/  couldn't  bear  to  stay  here—after— after  you  were 
gone.  We  will  all  be  happy  when  in  America 
a^raiu.  I  believe  that's  what  has  made  us  all  more 
or  less  gloomy.  We  have  been  homesick.  Japan 
is  all  right,  beautiful  and  all  that— but,  well,  it  is 
not  America.  We  never  couid  feel  the  same  here. ' ' 
So  she  rattled  on  to  Cleo,  trying  to  tak.^  the  girl's 
thoughts  out  of  herself. 

And  then,  one  day,  Cleo  turned  to  her  and  told 
her  very  quietly  that  she  knew  everything. 

Mrs.  Davis  gasped.     "Ever)^thing!" 

She  looked  at  the  girl's  calm,  emotionless  face 
in  horror.     "And— and  you " 

"I've  known  it  sometime  now,"  the  girl  con- 
tinued, grimly.  She  heard  the  other  woman  sob- 
bing for  her,  and  put  her  hand  out  and  found  the 
little  sympathetic  one  extended. 

"I  know— know,  dear,  how  you  tried  to  hide  it 
from  me,"  she  smiled  faintly;  "that  could  not  be." 

Mrs.  Davis  was  mute.  Cleo  was  an  enigma  to 
her  now. 

*'I  never  guessed  you  knew. " 


,J 


ao8 


I 

+ 1 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


*' 


I 


V  I 


I! 


i  ! 


"No?  Mother  told  me.  She  did  not  mean  to 
be  cruel,  but  she  was  not  well  herself  then,  and  she 
— she  reproached  me." 

She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet,  the  same  still, 
white  look  on  her  face  that  had  come  there  when 
she  had  read  Sinclair's  letter.  She  turned  on  her 
friend  with  an  almost  fierce  movement. 

"Why  don't  you  hate  me?"  she  said,  with  only 
half -repressed  vehemence.  "Why  does  not  every 
one — as  I  do  myself?" 

She  was  beyond  the  comfort  of  her  friend 
now.  Jenny  Davis  could  only  watch  her  with  wide 
eyes  of  wonder  and  agony.  For  a  moment  the  girl 
paced  the  room  with  restless,  dragging  step,  like  a 
wild  caged  thing. 

"Jenny,  I  will  tell  you  something  now.  You 
may  laugh  at  me — laugh  as — I  can — as  I  do  myself, 

but "    Again  she  paused,  and  she  put  her  hand 

to  her  throat  as  though  the  words  choked  her. 

"After  I  read  that — that  letter,  it  seemed  as  if 
something  broke  in  me — not  my  heart — no,  don't 
think  that;  but  at  first  I  felt  desolate,  with  a  loneli- 
ness you  could  never  comprehend.  He  had  been 
in  my  mind  so  many  years  then.  Yes,  I  know — I 
had  expected  it  all  — but  it  was  a  shock  at  first. 
I  never  could  face  anything  painful  all  my  life,  and 
when  I  actually  knew  the  truth — when  I  read  his 
letter,  and  it  was  cruel,  after  all,  Jenny,  I  wanted  to 
go  away  somewhere  and  hide  myself — no — I  wanted 
to  go  to  some  one — some  one  who  really  loved 
me,  and  cry  my  heart  out.  Don't  you  understand 
me,  Jenny?     Oh,    you    must "  her   voice    was 


THE  PENALTY. 


209 


dragging  painfully  now.  "I  wanted — to — go — to 
Onto!" 

"Cleo!" 

*'Yes,  it  is  true,"  she  went  on,  wildly.  *'//«• 
was  better  than  the  other.  So  much  tenderer  and 
truer — the  best  man  I  ever  knew — the  only  ])er- 
son  in  the  whole  world  who  ever  really  loved 
me.  And  I — Jenny,  I  killed  him!  Think  of  it, 
and   pity  me — no,  don't  pity  me — I  deserve  none 

And  then — and    then "  she    was   beginninyf    to 

lose  command  of  her  speech  now.  Mrs.  Davis 
tried  to  draw  her  into  a  chair,  but  she  put  the 
clinging,  loving  hands  from  her  and  continued : 
"When  I  wanted  him — when  that  other  liad 
deserted  '■>: — had  let  me  know  the  truth  that  he 
never  did  care  for  mc — never  did  care  for  me," 
she  repeated,  incoherently,  "and  I  loved  him  all 
those  years.  I  used  to  lie  awake  at  night  and  cry 
for  him, — for  Orito — for  his  comfort — just  as  I 
do  now.  I  cannot  help  myself.  I  thought  I  would 
go  to  him  and  tell  him  everything — he  would  under- 
stand— how — how  my  heart  had  awakened — how  I 
must  have  loved  him  all  along.  And  then — then 
mother  burst  out  at  me  only  last  week,  Jenny,  and 
told  me  the  truth — that — that  he  was  dead — that  he 
had  killed  himself ;  no — that  I  had  killed  him.  Do 
you  wonder  I  did  not  die — go  mad  when  I  learned 
the  truth?  Oh,  Jenny,  I  am  half  dead — I  am  so 
numb,  dead  to  all  pleasure,  all  hope  in  life. ' ' 

She  had  been  speaking  spasmodically;  at  first 
with  a  hard,  metallic  ring  to  her  voice,  and  then 
wildly  and  passionately.     Now  her  voice  suddenly 


210 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


trembled  and  melted.  She  was  still  quite  weak, 
and  had  excited  herself.  Her  friend  caught  her 
to  her  breast  just  in  time  for  the  flood  of  tears  to 
come — tears  that  were  a  necessary,  blessed  relief. 
She  broke  down  utterly  and  began  to  sob  in  a 
pitiful,  hopeless,  heart-breaking  fashion. 

From  that  day,  however,  she  seemed  to  improve, 
though  she  was  erratic  and  moody.  She  would 
insist  on  seeing  all  the  callers — those  who  came 
because  of  their  genuine  liking  for  her,  and  sorrow 
in  her  illness,  and  the  larger  number  who  came 
out  of  curiosity.  However  much  of  her  heart 
she  had  shown  to  Mrs.  Davis,  no  one  else  of  all 
Cleo's  friends  guessed  the  turmoil  that  battled  in 
her  breast. 


THE  PITY  OF  IT  ALL. 


21  I 


CHAPTER  LVII. 


THE  PITY  OF  IT  ALL. 

Although  it  was  nearly  two  weeks  since  Sinclair 
had  written  to  her,  she  had  not  seen  him  once. 
He  had  talked  the  matter  over  with  Tom  and  Mrs. 
Davis,  and  they  had  decided  that,  for  a  time  at 
least,  it  would  be  best  for  her  not  to  see  him. 
About  a  week  before  the  Ballards  sailed,  Cleo  wrote 
to  Sinclair.  She  made  no  allusion  whatever  to  his 
letter  to  her.  She  simply  asked  him  to  come  and 
see  her  before  she  left  Japan,  and  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  Sinclair  went  straight  to  her. 
He  could  afEord  to  be  generous  now  that  his  own 
happiness  was  assured. 

It  was  a  strange  meeting.  The  man  was  at 
first  constrained  and  ill  at  ease.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  girl  met  him  in  a  perfectly  emotionless, 
calm  fashion.  She  gave  him  her  hand  steadily,  and 
her  voice  did  not  falter  in  the  slightest. 

"I  want  you  to  know  the  truth,"  she  said,  "before 
I  go  away. ' ' 

"Don't  let  us  talk  about  it,  Cleo,"  Sinclair 
said.     "It  will  only  cause  you  pain." 

"That  is  what  I  deserve,"  she  said.  "That  is 
why  I  have  always  been  wrong— I  was  afraid  to 
look  anything  painful  in  the  face.  I  avoided  and 
shrank  from  it  till— till  it  broke  my  heart.  It  does 
nie  good  now  to  talk— to  speak  of  it  all. " 


I 


if 


I',: 


li 


d 


rv- 


212 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


He  sat  down  beside  Cleo,  and  looked  at  her 
with  eyes  of  compassion. 

"You  must  not  pity  me,"  she  said,  a  trifle 
unsteadily.  "I  do  not  deserve  it.  I  have  been 
a  very  wicked  woman." 

"It  was  not  altogether  your  fault,  Cleo,"  he 
said,  vaguely  trying  to  comfort,  but  she  contra- 
dicted him  almost  fiercely. 

"It  was — it  was,  indeed,  all  my  fault."  She 
caught  her  breath  sharply.  "However,  that  was 
not  what  I  wanted  to  speak  about.  It  was  this. 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  that — that — after  all,  I  do  not 
love  you.  That  I — I  loved  ^m — Orito!"  She  half- 
breathed  the  last  word. 

Sinclair  sat  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked  at  her 
with  slow,  studying  eyes. 

She  repeated  wearily:  "Yes;  I  loved  him — but 
I — did  not — know — it  till  it  was  too  late!'' 

For  a  long  time  after  that  the  two  sat  in  com- 
plete silence.  Sinclair  could  not  find  words  to  speak 
to  her,  and  the  girl  had  exhausted  her  heart  in 
that  heart-breaking  and  now  tragic  confession. 

Then  the  man  broke  the  silence  with  a  sharp, 
almost  impatient,  ejaculation,  which  escaped  him 
unconsciously.     "The  pity  of  it  all! — Good  God!" 

"Arthur,  I  want  to  see — to  speak  to  Num^  before 
I  go  away.     You  will  let  me;  will  you  not?" 

He  hesitated  only  a  moment,  and  then:  "Yes, 
dear,  anything  you  want." 

And  when  he  was  leaving  her,  _he  said  to 
him,  abruptly,  with  a  sharp  questioning  note  in  her 
voice  that  wanted  to  be  denied: 


THE  PITY  OF  IT  ALL. 


2M 


•'I  am  a  very  wicked  woman!" 

"No— no;  anything  but  that,"  he  said,  and  stoop- 
ing kissed  her  thin,  frail  hand. 

Something  choked  him  at  the  heart  and  blinded 
his  eyes  as  he  left  her,  and  all  the  way  back  to  his 
office,  in  the  jinrikisha,  he  kept  thinking  of  the 
girl's  white,  suffering  face,  and  memories  of  the 
gay,  happy,  careless  Cleo  he  had  known  in  America 
mingled  with  it  in  his  thoughts  in  a  frightful 
medley.  Something  like  remorse  crept  into  his 
own  heart;  for  was  he  entirely  blameless?  But  he 
forgot  everything  painful  when  he  arrived  home, 
for  there  was  a  perfume-scented  little  note  written 
on  thin  rice-paper,  waiting  for  him,  and  Nume  was 
expecting  him  that  day.  When  one  has  present 
happiness,  it  is  not  hard  to  forget  the  sorrows  of 
others. 


ifi 


,   I 


l':    t 


314 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MRS.  DAVIS'S  NERVES. 

The  next  day  Sinclair  brought  Cleo  to  call  on 
Numb.  It  was  the  first  time  the  two  girls  had 
ever  really  talked  with  each  other.  At  first  Numb 
declared  she  would  not  see  the  American  girl, 
whom  she  held  responsible  for  her  father's,  Sachi's 
and  Orito's  deaths,  but  after  Sinclair  had  talked  to 
her  for  a  while  and  nad  told  her  how  the  other  girl 
was  suffering,  and  how  she,  after  all,  really  loved 
Orito,  the  girl's  tender  little  heart  was  touched, 
and  she  was  as  anxious  to  see  Cleo  as  Cleo  was  to 
see  her. 

She  went  herself  down  the  little  garden  path  to 
meet  Cleo,  and  held  her  two  little  hands  out  with 
a  great  show  of  cordiality  and  almost  affection. 

"Tha'sj^  perlite  thad  you  cummin'  to  see  me," 
she  said. 

Cleo  smiled,  the  first  time  in  days,  perhaps. 
It  pleased  Numb.  "Ah!"  she  said,  "how  nize  thad 
is — jus'  lig'  sunbeam  in  dark  room!" 

She  was  very  anxious  to  please  the  American 
girl  and  make  her  feel  at  her  ease,  and  she 
chatted  on  happily  to  her.  She  wanted  Cleo  to 
understand  that  in  spite  of  her  father's  death  she 
was  not  altogether  unhappy,  for  she  had  talked 
the   matter    over  very  solemnly  with    Koto    and 


MRS.  DAVISS  NERVES. 


215 


Matsu  only  the  previous  night,  and  they  had  all 
agreed  that  Cleo's  desire  to  see  her  (Num^)  was 
prompted  by  remorse,  which  remorse  Numh  wished 
to  lessen,  to  please  Sinclair. 

Sinclair  left  them  alone  together,  and  strolled 
over  to  Mrs.  Davis's  house.  She  had  been  kept  in 
ignorance  of  this  proposed  visit.  Sinclair  found 
her  busily  engaged  in  packing,  preparatory  to 
leaving.  Mrs.  Davis  was  in  despair  over  some 
American  furniture  that  she  did  not  want  to  take 
with  her. 

"Can't  you  leave  it  behind?" 

"No;  the  new  landlord  won't  let  me.  3ays 
the  Japanese  have  no  use  for  American  furniture — 
unpleasant  in  the  houses  during  earthquakes,  etc. ' ' 

"Well,  I'll  take  care  of  them  for  you,"  Sin- 
clair volunteered,  good-naturedly. 

"Oh,  will  you?  Now,  that  will  be  good  of 
you.  That  settles  that,  then.  And  now  about  this 
stuff— come  on,  Tom,"  she  began  crushing  things 
into  boxes  and  trunks,  in  her  quick,  delightful 
fashion,  scarce  noting  where  she  was  placing  them. 
She  paused  a  moment  to  ask  Sinclair  if  he  had  been 
over  to  Num^'s. 

"Yes,"  he  smiled  a  trifle.     "Cleo  is  there  now." 

She  dropped  a  piece  of  bric-a-brac  and  sat  down 
on  the  floor. 

"Cleo!  there— with  Numi!    Well!" 

"Yes,  she  wanted  to  know  Numfe,  she  said,  before 
going  ^.way,"  Sinclair  told  her. 

"She  will  never  cease  surprising  me,"  Mrs. 
Davis  said,  plaintively.     "She  ought  not  to  excite 


!  i 


ii6 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


herself.  I  never  know  what  to  expect  of  her,  which 
way  to  take  her.  I  used  to  think  my  nerves  were 
strong;  now — my  nerves  are — are  nervous." 

"Cleo  is  not  herself  lately,"  Tom  said,  quietly, 
without  looking  up.  "We'd  better  humor  her  for 
a  little  while  still.  Besides — Numfe  will  do  her 
good,  I  believe." 


;H 


Iiich 
^ere 

tiy, 

for 
her 


CLEO  AND  NUME. 


ai; 


CHAPTER  LIX. 
CLEO  AND  NUMk. 

As  soon  as  Sinclair  left  them  the  Japanese  girl 
went  close  up  to  the  American  girl. 

"Sa-ay— I  goin'  tell  you  something,"  she  said, 
confidingly. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"You  mos'  beautifoolest  womans  barbarian — 
No!  no!  nod  thad.  Egscuse  me.  I  nod  perlite  to 
mag'  mistakes  sometimes.  I  mean  I  thing'  you  mos' 
beautifoolest  ladies  I  aever  seen, ' '  she  said. 

Again  Cleo  smiled.  Numb  wished  she  would 
say  something. 

"You  lig'  me?"  she  prompted,  encouragingly. 

"Yes " 

"Foraever  an'  aever?" 

"Well — yes — I  guess  so." 

"How  nize!"  she  clapped  her  hands  and  Koto 
came  through  the  parted  shoji. 

'''Now  I  interducing  you  to  my  mos'  vaery 
nize  f riens,  Mees  Tominago  Koto. ' ' 

Koto  was  as  anxious  as  Nume  to  please,  and  as 
she  had  seen  Numb  hold  her  two  hands  out  in 
greeting,  she  did  the  same,  very  sweetly. 

About  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Davis,  with  Tom  and 
Sinclair,  looked  in  at  the  three  girls.  Cleo  was  sit- 
ting on  the  mats  with  Koto  and  Numb,  and  they 
were  all  laughing. 


ri8 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


» 


=       ;i 


"Well,  we've  come  for  the  invalid,"  said 
Tom,  cheerily.     "She  has  been  out  long  enough." 

"I  have  enjoyed  my  vis'*-  "  she  told  them,  simply. 
"And  Nume,"  she  turned  to  her,  "Numb,  will  you 
kiss  me?" 

"Ess;"  she  paused  a  moment,  bashfully,  throwing 
a  charming  glance  at  Sinclair.  "I  kin  kees — Mr. 
Sinka  tich  me.  * ' 

They  all  laughed  at  this. 

"An*  now,"  she  continued,  "I  inviting  you  to 
visit  with  me  agin. ' '  She  included  them  all  with  a 
bewitching  little  sweep  of  her  hands,  but  her  eyes 
were  on  the  American  girl's  face.  "An'  also  I  lig' 
you  to  know  thad  Mr.  Sinka  promising  to  me  thad 
he  goin'  tek  me  thad  grade  big  United  States. 
Now,  thad  wilL  be  nize.  I  egspeg  you  lig'  me 
visite  with  you  also.     Yaes?" 

"Of  course;  yQi\x  would  stay  with  us,"  Tom 
said,  cordially. 

"Thad  is  perlite,"  she  breathed,  ecstatically. 

"Not  polite.  Numb,"  Sinclair  corrected,  smil- 
ing, "but,  well — 'nize,*  as  you  would  call  it." 

"Ah,  yaes,  of  course.  I  beg  pardons,  egscuse. 
I  mean  thad  liddle  word  'nize.*  Tha's  foolish  say 
'perlite.'  "  She  laughed  at  what  she  thought  her 
own  foolishness,  and  she  was  so  pretty  when  she 
laughed. 

Cleo  turned  to  Sinclair.  "I  understand,"  she 
said,  softly,  "why  you — you  loved  her.  If  I  were 
a  man  I  would  too. ' ' 

"Ah!  thad  is  a  regret,"  sighed  Numb,  who 
had  overheard  her  and  half  understood.     ' ' Thad  you 


iil  1 


'•^■SKlotJir,*-'- 


CLEO  AND  NUME. 


219 


nod  a  mans  to  luf  with  me.  Aenyhow,  I  thing"  I 
liging  you  without  thad  I  be  a  mans.  Sa-ay,  I  lig' 
you  jus'  lig'  a— a  brudder— no,  lig'  a  mudder.  with 
you."  This  was  very  generous,  as  the  mother  love 
is  supreme  in  Japan,  and  Num^  felt  she  could  not  go 
beyond  that. 

Cleo  seemed  very  much  absorbed  on  the  way 
home.  Tom  was  in  the  kurumma  with  her,  Sin- 
clair having  stayed  behind  a  while. 

"Matsu  is  going  back  with  us  to  America,"  she 
said.  "I  think  she  is  a  dear  little  thing,  and  I  shall 
educate  her."  She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then 
she  said,  very  wistfully: 

"Tom,  do  you  suppose  I  can  ever  make  up— 
atone  for  all  my  wickedness?"  and  Tom  answered 
her  with  all  the  old  loving  sympathy. 

"/  never  could  think  of  you  as  wicked,  sis  — 
not  wantonly  so— only  thoughtless." 

"Ah,  Tom— if  /could  only  think  so  too!" 
When     the  boat    moved    down    the    bay  Cleo's 
and  Tom's  eyes  were  dim,  and  when  the  wharf  was 
only  a  shadowy,  dark  line  they  still  leaned  forward 
watching  a  small  white  fluttering  handkerchief,  and 
in  imagination  they  still  saw  the  little  doleful  figure 
trying  to  smile  up  at  them  through  a  mist  of  tears. 
And  a  week  later  the   selfsame   missionary  who 
had    given    Sinclair   so   much   work,   and    thereby 
helped   him   bear  his  trouble,  married  them—Sin- 
clair  and    Num^.      The   girl    was   gowned   all   in 
white— the  dress  she  had  worn  that  first  time  Sin- 
clair  had  met  her. 

About  two  years  later  a  party  of  American  tour- 


i  I    : 


t.20 


MISS  NUME  OF  JAPAN. 


ists  called  on  Sinclair.  Among  them  were  a 
few  old  acquaintances.  They  brought  strange 
news.  Cleo  and  Tom  Ballard  had  been  married  for 
a  month  past! 

Perhaps  the  most  frequent  visitors  at  the   Sin- 
clairs'  are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shiku. 


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